One of those days when the song on the radio brings back time and it stays and every shed tear, every far-off laughter returns like a ghost from a former chapter. One of those days when my mother’s voice in my memory sways; all her quiet wars, her calloused grace, still a warrior, her love I held dear yet too often misplaced. One of those days when no word you offer can alter my haze as I name myself a failure, a field gone dry, where seeds of dreams fell but forgot how to rise. One of those days when I’d welcome the arms that once dealt me pain for…