My Daughter's Inheritance

Give these lip balms to my daughter
whose mouth she got from her father
Let her take these everyday treasures
she coveted from her mother's dresser
for there will come a day soon when
she will no longer want my possessions

Loan her the statue of Tara, the mother of all Buddhas
that I crossed paths with in Union Square
Let my namesake's compassion and feminine wisdom
seep into the deepest part of her childish heart 
as she sleeps tucked up in dreams
with her blanket half-on, half-off

Hand over the sketch of a forever family
to the little being who stretched two into three
Let her be reminded of love's eternal hold
and how it never lets go, no matter 
how many times we bump heads and bruise hearts
before breakfast

Bestow the patterned box of tissues
for all those blue tears and excruciating moments 
she won't feel good enough in her bones 
despite her parents' assurances that she is
everything beauty could aspire to and 
both the cosmos and universe to us

​I can get by with a sparse nightstand
an Ikea lamp, a perfume bottle and wedding bands for my hand
but I will hang on to the good mother sticker
and remember to pack it up when we move on
keeping it safe for when my daughter has a daughter
and she needs a daily reminder of her own