Mothers Death
All earthly things left behind.
All that is left for me is to grieve the emptiness of loss
That no words can express.
I sit with my mother on the edge of her bed, holding her hand
And imagine her to wake. Waiting for a word, just one last word,
But she remains still.
I think that she knows even though I do not
Nothing left for me , but to imagine.
In her life was the strength of everything good.
In her death her strength becomes the symbol to all those whom
She touched.
How can I remember, but by the picture in my mind
and the symbols she has left behind, those symbols that described her life.
A wife and partner,
A mother great and grand.
Kind, gracious, compassionate, great full and selfless.
Always concerned for me and never for herself.
I have hope to see her again.
Copyright © Ray Zottola | Year Posted 2020
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