NORTH LET GO

From mom

<sup><sub>I heard your voice – so cracked, so far from light,
A whisper drowning in a sea of shame.
You said, “I think I drink to feel alright…”
But I could hear the part you couldn’t name.
The hurt. The grief. The way it pulled you down.
I told your dad, “We go, or her, we’ll lose.”
No question. Booked a seat. Flew through the clouds,
To lift you from a world that tried to bruise you.

You were mine – half-laugh, half-wreck, but not flawed – 
Pants to your ankles, crying on the floor.
And still, you made me proud. I always saw
The fight in you, even when you swore
You had none left. I held it in my hands.
And still, I’d choose you. Every time. No plan.</sub></sup>