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Poem



Made motherless 
in your mid teens,
father removed by grief,
brother and sister
crying out, your youth
was taken by need.
Emotions went subterranean, 
kept capped too deep in you 
to weep to the surface.
You became a mother.

As a child
I never knew your pain,
I was too busy with my own. 
You carried those unhealed 
scars under a granite veneer.
Tears were meant to be held 
back and arms kept busy 
baking and servicing
the myriad of chores 
a housewife did back then.
They were not meant
for holding me.

We loved from a distance.
Only in the slow dissolution 
of your dying did we see each
other as we were.
We talked for hours
until words were done
and there came a silence
where existed only love
between mother and son

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