A Mother's Lament


For a season our lives were entwined
as his heart beat with mine.
I nurtured him
and he entrusted me with
his glistening ebony gaze
his velvety grasp
his endearing chatter.
Approaching the world as a wayward whiff
at times whipped into a churning whirlwind
his mirth was intoxicating.

He became a thread in my tapestry of vibrant colors
woven together in an exhausting pattern
of varying hues.

Too soon he was gone.
His sparkling pools of darkest ink
distorted into murky stillness.
The warmth of his airy breeze turned cold and damp
driving him further away
into his own abyss.

My tapestry is knotted, tangled on its underside
as if the weaver is unskilled—unsure.

I'm told that where there is despair there is also hope
where there is darkness—light.
Oh Weaver of my tapestry, guide this thread into
the glorious existence planned at the beginning
before the time he lay curled under my heart.

Melanie

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