MOTHER, I AM COMING HOME

“It takes learning and experience, to learn”

You are the queen of your castle Mother—not because you expect bows at your feet, but because you never once let complacency or self-pity keep a throne. You gave me rules without cages. Lessons without chains.
And I repaid you with ‘cruelty’.

I said things that still burn my throat to remember. I left like a storm that didn’t care what it tore down. I was young. That’s not an excuse. It’s just the truth. And the truth now is this: I learned your lessons only after I had left you. Only after the world showed me no one else would have waited.

Mother, growing up was inevitable. You didn’t do that to me. You were never my jailer. You were only ever my first shelter. A support system, not a system of control.
On my coldest and darkest nights—and there have been many—I know your heart is still mine to return to. You would invite me back from any ruin. That is not a trap. That is grace.

But I’m all grown now. I need my own roof. My own ground. You and I both know: I can never grow out of your love. In your heart, I am always home. But I must learn to be home in myself.
So I’m asking you—will you catch me once more, old as I seem?
Will you let me cry on your chest like a child who lost his way?
Let me lean on your shoulder, even now, at my worst?
Will you help me burn the bridges that kept me trapped on my dark side?
Will I be alright out there? Will I run, or will I ride? Or will I be blown apart by the storm?

Mother, here is the real question:
Will I no longer be afraid to be me—without the fear of what else I could be?
Will I hear my own voice and not dread it?
You are not perfect. But can I trust myself the way I have learned to trust you?

We’re at the edge here, mother. Honestly.
Still I turn to you. Show me once more, and I will follow this time.
I’ll be your baby. I’ll listen. I’ll climb out of my own way.
I’ll unhate myself and get down with that—
then enter the gate where your light shines with mine.

Flat on my face, but still here. It won’t be easy.
But just because we are still breathing—I can at least try.
Pause.
I can be with you and love me.
If I could hate myself this strong,
then I can love myself just the same.
That’s where I belong.

I’ll project my hate on the things that lied—
the ego that led my heart astray,
the voices that said I’m worthless.
They are denied.
It’s nice to not feel completely alone.

Forgive myself. Love myself. Thank myself for coming home.
How could I forget? There could be no better place.

Your son,
Jordan