By Okereke Emmanuel Chibuike

The first time I saw my mother cry, I was seven.
The world had thrown another weight on her back—a bill, a betrayal, something she didn’t name. But she wiped her tears, tied her headscarf tighter, and started dinner like the storm hadn’t touched her.

She was a woman with fire—not just in her eyes, but in her bones. Every breath she took burned for someone else.

She never left, even when the world slammed its doors. She stood—silent, unshaken.
No applause. No trophies. Just cracked hands and tired eyes.

But she never dropped me.
Never let go.

Even when her soul begged for rest.

Now, years later, I face a world that whispers lies and turns cold in familiar ways. I catch my reflection—chin high, spine straight—and I see her.

I see the fire.
I know where it came from.
And I hold it tight.

Not just because she gave me life.
But because she showed me how to live it—with fight, with grace, with fire.

Okereke Emmanuel Chibuike is a Nigerian writer and poet whose work explores themes of resilience, identity, and familial bonds. He has a deep appreciation for storytelling that evokes emotion and reveals quiet strength. Chibuike draws inspiration from personal experiences and the enduring power of love and memory. His work has been submitted to various literary platforms, including the Academy of Heart and Mind. He writes under his Pen name KBR

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