Mother withered in the fall
when the bittersweet splits and spills.
Wearied of pain and weariness itself
Her gray veins drained—
sapped like sweet syrup.
Her smile grew numb–
frozen in premature death.
Her worn hands let go of life and death
Like the weed drops her fruit
to seed, and breed–
Nature taking its orders,
Mortality taking its course.
My heart was a swallowed bolder;
Tears drained my inner pool.
But exhausted joy came in the morning
When labor bore a jewel.
She never met the babe
Though they share a certain glory:
Both born to life but one, through death.
‘Bittersweet’ sums up their story.