A Mother Cries

As he’s pulled from his mother’s womb
and cat-like cries pierce through expectation,
doctors clean
his wrinkled, red form.
Daddy brings him close for a kiss.
A mother cries.
-----

A tiny body
quivers
With fever and pain.
A mother tries
     to comfort,
          to soothe.
Helpless,
a mother cries.
-----

In anguish
he sprawls on the cold tile,
unyielding sobs,
     little red face,
          contorted and wet.
“Don’t. Leave. Me. Mommy!”
Reassuringly,
She hugs him one more time.
On the way to work,
a mother cries.
-----

Home from school,
a bedroom door slams
     shutting out his pain.
His face flushes in anger.

Isolated.
They can’t bully him here.
Music is his only anesthetic.
He doesn’t hear her questions
from the other side of the door.
A mother cries.
-----

Laid off again.
The economy is down, they say.
The bills keep coming.
What will happen if he can’t pay?
The car - repossessed,
a foreclosure on their home.
They still have each other.
Life is much worse for some.
Far away,
a mother cries.
-----

Starting over at forty-nine,
twenty-two years of love behind.
Unbearable.
Inconceivable.
The color of their love
fades from red to black.
How will he go on?
Without her.
His teenage son's shattered heart
is motivation enough.
Somehow he will be strong.

Still her little boy,
a mother cries.
-----

Lines accent his eyes and forehead,
telling more than just his age.
Happiness found him again,
though, some would argue, too late.

His mother lies
on a narrow, rigid bed,
cold white sheets,
pale walls,
a mixture of disinfectant and urine
perfumes the shared halls.

His mother tries
not to let him see her pain.
She’s not afraid to die,
Just terrified to leave him too soon.
A mother cries.

She’s as fragile as a baby bird.
No trace of the rosy blush of youth.
They must say their goodbyes.
He holds her hand
as she says her last prayer
     for him.
One last time,
a mother cries.

©  9/14/2012