For mother’s with us, even if they’re gone:


Broken shoe laces

stubbed toes

things in the night darkness.

First crush,

the last, last one.

Being last,

being first,

being bored.

Anger, laughter, hate and fear.

Leaving home,

finding home,

coming home.

Tears that dry.

Tears that don’t.

Bodies changing,

and changing,

and changing.

The voice that’s always there.

The voice that always tells you.

The voice that listens too.

The babies born,

the babies that were you,

the passing I will be.

And you were there.