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