The Vase. The Fractured. The Flame.

For My Mama and Every Mother, Everywhere

She glows from within. Not because life made it easy.

But because a mother’s love was never the kind that dims.

Dear Mama,

This year on Mother’s Day, I thought hard about the right words to tell you… When years I gave you poems I always feel, what else can I say? Have I said enough to let you know how grateful I am to have you as mother and how much I love you.

When words are my kind of currency, this year I thought of sharing my inexpensive words for you with the world. I hope you are okay with that.

You always say “until you become a mother, you wouldn’t know how it feels”. And true enough. Because when God made us a mother, He has chosen us to play a role that is hard yet rewarding.

My mind thought of a beautiful vase because you are so beautiful and you like beautiful things, I had to find a beautiful vase. And finally, I found one.

This vase is very special, Ma. Look at it closely Ma. The elegance of the flowers, the golden veins that reveal its fracture lines, and the internal glow that reminds me of how a candle illuminates from within even as it is cracked open to the world.  An imperfect vase yet there’s something about it that made it undeniably beautiful, sturdy, irreplaceable and.. unforgettable.

Indeed, isn’t that what a mother is.  Mothers heal their wounds and still give their best. They carry their fractures often in silence, filled with gold where they were broken, and they glow not in spite of the cracks, but through them.

As a mother, I understood now that a mother’s fractures are not her failures but they are the marks of everything she held together. I finally understood, Ma.   

With all the love I have, and all the words I will ever write, none of them will ever be enough.  But I will keep trying, Ma.

Love you Ma.

Happy Mother’s Day.

And… to every mother reading this or to every child holding the memory of one, know this: the fractures were never meant as broken. They are the gold lines. They are the proof that you were here, that you held things, that your loved beyond what love was ever supposed to carry.

Words wound you. Life wears you. Silence breaks you in ways no one notices. And yet you heal. You mend. You return to the table, to the bedside, to the kitchen, to dr’s visits, the phone call at midnight or whenever and you give. Again and again and again. Because your love is unconditional. 

You are the vase. You are the fracture. You are the flame within. And you are more beautiful for every crack.  Not because you are without scars. But because the love inside you burns brighter than the fractures around them.

Happy Mother’s Day.

S.J. Sharif  ·  Mother’s Day 2026