歌詞

MY MOTHER’S SECRET LANGUAGE
For years,
I thought my mother
was always giving me away.

Someone needed
a child to travel with.
Someone needed
company.

Someone needed
a girl to keep them company
for a few days.

And somehow,
I was available.
Again, Again, Again.

I built a small story
inside my head:
Perhaps Mum
does not want me around.
Children are excellent storytellers
when nobody explains
the plot.

I did not know
she was trying
to introduce me
to the world.

She knew I was shy.
Knew I watched
before speaking.
Knew there was
a larger person
hiding inside
the quiet child.

She was not pushing me away.
She was pushing
the walls away.

I understood it properly
one day
when she described me
to another person.
Every detail landed
with uncomfortable accuracy.

My habits.
My temperament.
The things I noticed.
The things I never said.
I sat there thinking,

How long have you
been studying me?
That was the day
I realized my mother
had been reading
a book I did not know
I had written.

She had her own battles.
Her own disappointments.
Her own reasons
to become hard.

Yet she kept choosing
to fight for her children.
She could have handed
her pain to us
like an inheritance.

She did not.
Instead, she taught me
to look again
at people I thought
I had already understood.

Even my father.
She helped me find
the man beneath
the difficult memories.
That gift changed something
in me.

Mum,

I know now
that some of the places
you sent me
were lessons disguised
as journeys.
You were teaching me
to enter unfamiliar rooms
without shrinking.

To travel.
To meet people.
To survive without
the constant shelter
of what I knew.

You were preparing me
for a world
that would not always
be gentle.
And you did it
while carrying
your own weight.

I could search
my whole life
for a better mother
and still return
to you.

Not because
you never made mistakes.
Because despite everything
life placed in your hands,
you kept choosing
to make something beautiful
from what remained.

You could have allowed
her own wounds
to become the only story.

But you kept choosing
to become better
than what life
had handed you.

And I am grateful
for the woman
you chose to become.