How can you fathom,
The breadth of pain
Of a loving mother,
Predeceased by her beloved child?
Do you measure her tears?
Do the tears in her eyes
Reach the lowest level of the deep blue sea
Or do they flow like a river?
I knew how,
When my uncle died.
My grandmother
Went straight to her grave.
Copyright 2017, Rose Marie Juan-Austin, All Rights Reserved