This Literary House is in Memory of my Mother, Mary.

She was the first place I learned what it meant to carry, endure, and remain.

Long before I had a language for it, I understood responsibility.

I understood how to hold others without asking to be held.

When she returned to the earth in 2010, she did not leave me empty.

She left me with a life that still had to be lived

and a voice I did not know how to use.

Mary's Child Writes is what grew from that void.

If you have ever been the one who held everything together,

If you are coming back to yourself after being what everyone else needed.

You are already a part of this house.

- Mary's Child

BECOMING HERENTER THE LIBRARY

A growing body of over 200 poems about life, love, reflection, growing, grief, and becoming.

This week in the house

Before the Sun Rises

Before the sun even thinks

About kissing the sky

I rise.

The world is still dark

A quiet chill sitting heavy in the air.

And my alarm buzzes like a duty I didn't choose

But learned to answer anyway.

READ THE FULL POEM

Love made her strong...Loss made her still...

THE WOMAN BEHIND THE HOUSE

Curated by a woman who mastered survival before she discovered softness.

Mary's Child Writes is not just poetry.

It is memory.

lineage.

return.

Every word is written for the woman becoming herself again.

READ MY STORY

06/01/2026

Dear Mom,

I'm sorry I didn't write to you last week. Monday was Memorial Day, and I decided to take some time to rest and relax.

I can't believe it is already June. Time seems to be moving so fast lately. I have been writing long essays on Substack, and I really enjoy it. It gives me a place to express myself and my feelings without worrying about being judged for my writing style or my lack of grammatical perfectionism. There is something freeing about simply writing what is on my heart.

WEEKLY LOVE LETTER TO MY MOTHER

Take the Words with you... Poetry, in forms you can hold...

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