the smile in your children’s faces
that breaks you open
before you can protect yourself
the way morning comes anyway
pulling light across a room
you didn’t think you could get up in
the breath that stays
even when you wish it would stop
even when you are too tired to carry it
the small hand that finds yours in the dark
and believes
without question—that you will be there
the moment you realize
you have to be
the light on the wall
that doesn’t explain anything
and still feels like mercy
the yes you didn’t plan to say
the one that leaves you trembling
the one that keeps you here
the chair you leave empty
and still return to
as if something might come back
the strength you never asked for
but were given anyway
the quiet that holds you
when you are falling apart
and no one knows
the forgiveness
that comes back
after you swore you were done
the love
you keep giving
even after it breaks you
even after it leaves you
again
and again
the nights
you sit alone
holding everything together
and no one sees
and still
you hold
the way you keep showing up
even when it costs you everything
the way you still care
after learning how much it hurts
the way you make space
for others
when no one made it for you
the moment you whisper
I can’t do this
and do it anyway
the life you are building
even when it feels like nothing is forming
the quiet strength
of not leaving yourself
when everything in you
wants to disappear
God is this
this breaking
this holding
this staying, the part of you that will not give up even when you beg it to
the hope that is not gentle or easy but relentless, the force that keeps your hands open and your heart turning
the reason you are still here, still loving, still choosing, still… after everything, still
Mari Sánchez Cayuso 