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whole
for mothers and mother’s mothers
days like these,
I finally believe in the contagiousness of grief
as the shaking silence in Your voice
spills from reluctant lips
ghosts are our future now
You say
nothing ahead but ghosts
yet from Your trembling mouth
slip the puzzle pieces of Her
rendered weak and translucent by illness
and I see Her there before Me,
tall as the world trade centers
just as mightily vulnerable
can’t look back,
You say
nothing behind but ghosts
but I am stretching out My heart
in the dim shadows of mourning
nothing in this world as beautiful
I think
as the braiding together
of two souls’ sorrow
because My whole empty being
has overflowed with pain
that now You drain away
constructing ghosts with tentative murmurs
to keep Us safe
in the dwindling light
in Your upturned, tender lips,
I say
I believe I see Her smile
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