A mother leaving

Now that you’ve left (and at such short notice),

I worry: did you pack all that you need?

Did you take sufficient clothing, a good coat

for these late winter days?

Now that you’ve gone (no time for long goodbyes),

I wonder: where will you sleep, where will you dream?

Are there blankets where you’re going, a soft pillow

for these late winter nights?

I see you did pack some essentials:

my love, eternal gratitude,

my friendship and my heart;

at least part of it.

Now that you’ve died (your room dark and still),

I ask myself, where will you live?

But I know the answer: you now live in me

as I once lived in you.