My mother
by Erin Vaughan
She is a disarray of beauty
Broken pieces that never were
What they are.
She is broken hearted
As if she owns it.
Fragile. but only
In the most unbreakable of ways
The things I learned from her
She never taught.
In a world full of darkness
She clings desperately to depth,
And reminds me.
Only women are capable
Of such strength,
I will always be her shadow.