Paper dragon

https://www.napowrimo.net/

1. Portrait

 

Legacy

My mother’s eyes,                                                                                                                           my father’s face.

Her hands,

his quiet voice,

an uneven landscape,

still in formation.

I was shaped by past-history,

by their-story,

 

To this day

I strip the layers,

to uncover truths forgotten,

vehicles to broken pieces

needing to be glued. 

Her curls, so admired,

his quiet courage, the one of a leader.

Her language left behind

with severed family life,

was never to become my mother-tongue.

 Turbulences I inherited from my parents,

their features etched into mine,

will I leave them to my children.

When the time comes.