For the first time I looked at her
And saw that she was her own.
Not just a mother but with
Pain and worries
Wearing her down.
We sat beside a hospital bed and
agreed it would all be alright but
I could not help but worry.
There never was a book telling us
What we could expect
As we go through the moments
Of our lives and I
Could only hope and pray
That we would make it to the next day.
“This is a nightmare,” she would say but
I could not be with her every day.
Responsibilities called me away but
I stayed every moment that
I could give away.
“Help her,” I was told but
I already knew no one could
Hold up the world alone.
I could no longer be a child
Hanging onto a mother’s strings
As she struggled through the day.
Instead, I would be a shoulder to
Lean on and
A burden no more.