Carol

Upon the eve of dying she could not speak. And all her opened tear ducts Sprang awake And flooded forth from The founts of creation A new sea. Oh, yes! She cried a sea of tears Because her words Had passed the door of possibility, Because her boys Would not be there For her to comfort them, Because, perhaps A whole life Needed to be grieved. How I loved her. She could hear the simple, humble things That no-one else could hear, That I would trust none other Than her heart to listen to. It was like having my own wise, quiet mom, again. And now on the eve of dying, Now she cries, And the seas are flooded with light, And her form rises lightly From her bed, And she is gone - Except, perhaps, for a single tear