Anarca é a mãe

16 de outubro de 2014, 22h33

A mother’s prayer

woman praying silhoutte

If I may, as a mother, have a wish granted by a beautiful creature – be it a glitter-winged fairy, a god I don’t believe in or an orixa I don’t know…
I wish that my kids will trust me.
Let my arms always be a safe haven.
Let them never, in a moment of grief, fear, regret, shame, avoid me out of dread of what I might do to them, to other people or what that might do to me.
May they never fear breaking me in half with their sorrow.
Oh, goddess, saints, elementals, spirits that may walk the Earth and all the angels that may hover above, hear my desperate and sincere plea and be moved by it: that never a child that I love may cry alone, hidden away from me.
I know that in order to actually live, we must risk getting hurt. I accept, I embrace, I resign myself to the fact that my children will hurt. I try.
But I beg you, I beseech you, with my infidel knees stuck firmly on the ground and my soul in my hands, that I may have the strength to watch their tears without trying to wipe them out, that I may have the courage to hear their wails without wanting to silence them, that I may have the serenity to empathize with them without taking over their affairs.
May they never feel like their angst is a burden or their troubles are an inconvenience to me.
May they always know that I would rather die a thousand times holding their hands than live forever without knowing that when the lights go out and nobody is watching, they silently cry themselves to sleep.