From Her by Dan-Vy Nguyen

From Her by Dan-Vy Nguyen

From her I learned how to love,

Because she never showed me any.

From her I learned how to hide my feelings,

Because she never understands.

From her I learned how to tell when others are hurting,

Because she never could.

From her I learned how to hug,

Because I never got the affection I needed.

From her I learned to how to turn to others,

Because I could never turn to her.

From her I learned how to turn to music,

Because I needed to get my feelings out somehow.

From her I learned to be secretive,

Because she would always disapprove.

From her I learned to protect myself,

Because she never did.

From her I learned how to keep my shield up,

Because I don’t want to get hurt again.

From her I learned how to take care of myself,

Because someone has to.

From her I learned to love myself,

Because she never taught me how.

From her I learned to be a mother,

Because she was never one.

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What I Learned From My Mother by Julia Kasdorf

I learned from my mother how to love

the living, to have plenty of vases on hand

in case you have to rush to the hospital

with peonies cut from the lawn, black ants

still stuck to the buds. I learned to save jars

large enough to hold fruit salad for a whole

grieving household, to cube home-canned pears

and peaches, to slice through maroon grape skins

and flick out the sexual seeds with a knife point.

I learned to attend viewings even if I didn’t know

the deceased, to press the moist hands

of the living, to look in their eyes and offer

sympathy, as though I understood loss even then.

I learned that whatever we say means nothing,

what anyone will remember is that we came.

I learned to believe I had the power to ease

awful pains materially like an angel.

Like a doctor, I learned to create

from another’s suffering my own usefulness, and once

you know how to do this, you can never refuse.

To every house you enter, you must offer

healing: a chocolate cake you baked yourself,

the blessing of your voice, your chaste touch.