Mother Mary comforts me

i will not always weep
but i will always weep for her —
i cannot unearth this grief inside me
without abandoning my love.

and while little hearts beat all around me
pumping life into my soul,
death rotates into a prominent seat
and it is difficult to discern
which part of motherhood is infinite.

i look to Mother Mary on nights like these,
when the stale and heavy air
makes it too difficult to breathe.

it’s like sitting with an old friend
who knows you too well to speak
and who comforts you
by merely showing up.

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