You were a cathedral built from ash and nerve I was born beneath your stained glass where the light didn’t warm me—it warped me. wore pain like silk stitched into spine moved someone who’d learned to carry disaster in her breath call it prayer. never saw you weep—only vanish behind eyes. Sometimes wish could crawl lap sob child. Other times hold daughter cup war-worn face my palms whisper: it’s over now done don’t have keep holding fire with teeth. But know you’d turn stone at offering. weakness. bear not be held. taught me strength way blade teaches skin—by opening it. crafted god out of endurance called love passed down blood bone. now second spine. myself image admiration but instinct can’t tell inheritance ends begin. cry anyone can see. say I’m fine seven different languages none them are mine. made strong only places meant break. teach this. just another way. survived what should shattered you instead yourself armor became daughter fortress. mirror too well. love hunger. grieve silence. when touched. ache shape outline. And still see you. war quiet. swallowed so wouldn’t burn. mother tried become no blueprint own undoing. girl buried iron. beyond words spoken. for left child got be. felt that soften. wound walk open.