Combat

everything inside her is slowing down,
as if time has shifted,
the thunder that had fueled her movement and kept her perpetual,
is gone

she knows she’s dying,
and it seems a ridiculous death,
caused not by the rapid growth of sinister cells invading,
but by the painful slowing down

without the thunder inside her,
there is an unbelievable emptiness,
ash where fire used to burn

I see in her eyes the combat,
the fighting against the belief that when you no longer exist,
the world around you ceases as well

though she never thought much of herself,
she is grasping,
convinced the world is contained within her,
denying the fear that it all probably just goes on,
it all just continues

and I don’t know which is more painful to swallow

Mom

she is no super hero,
but she sure can fly

she grows her own roots,
even when the soil’s dry

she puts you forever first,
and holds you when you cry

she believes with all her heart,
that succees is when you try

she feels your every heartache,
as if through her own eye

she celebrates your joys,
her spirit soaring high

she savors your successes,
which money just can’t buy

all she hopes for is your smile,
for that’s what makes her fly

-art by Gustav Klimt; Happy Mother’s Day!, dedicated to my dearest friends, who are the most amazing mothers 💜