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.