27 years before today, my mom was about ready to give up any faith. My memory held moments I rather keep away. Loud. Lots of yelling, cursing swearing about. Mom always worried, now on her toes scared dad would find out . Mom was tired of the pain she endured every day and she was over being treated like a live in slave. Most days before the rooms became her safe space, mom had to deal with 4 little kids, wild animals as dad would say. My mom would numb herself from the pain, she didn’t understand yet that the very substance she praised was the villain keeping her mind a prisoner causing her body to stay in an unsafe place. She felt she was a victim because her addiction made her think this way. I can almost remember the very day, she walked into a room, took a seat and listened diligently. She came home but it wasn’t the same woman who left earlier, no. This was a warrior who knew she had so much fight for life left. Dad started to see her change and for someone who preferred ownership, he was beside himself, he expressed the betray. Not that long after my mom finally got away. She had been joining circles in these rooms for many days. It was like they were giving her back her life, her light started to brighten and shine. Anywhere she went darkness was sure to hide. She kept her chin up and head held high, even when she didn’t have a dime or place for her babies to reside. My mom stood in lines, putting her ego aside just so her kids could have food, shelter and peace of mind. 27 years later, and that warrior is still on the front lines. She has never backed down, even when the world tried. If anyone deserves a celebration, it’s my mom for giving us a second chance at life. I love you mom, more than any word can describe.
By Sierra Mazzucca
#LosAngelesPoet #hope #recover
Sierra Mazzucca's Poetry site 
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