the inheritance

when my mother left in the middle of december i searched my hands for what she had given me. i didn’t find gold or a map back home. i found the way she held her breath to keep the house quiet. i found the way she softened her voice until she became a whisper. there was no final hug. no last look into her eyes to say the things that are now trapped behind my teeth. i didn't get to see her one last time. i didn't get to hold the hands that built my world. now her voice echoes in the corners of my ears a ghost i am not ready to let go of. for eighteen years i wore her silence like a heavy shawl thinking it was the only way to stay warm in the north. but today i am taking it off. i am keeping her strength but i am burning the quiet. i am keeping her fire but i am letting it scream. my mother was a miracle who didn’t know she was allowed to be seen. so i will be the light she never got to have. i am her legacy finally loud.