a poem in my pocket

he lost second wife
and i, two mothers;
bonded by love’s genes,
shared grief, shed tears.

dad called me to say,
“our twin towers have
fallen;” nine tremulous
months after 9-1-01.

first night in hospice,
last on earth, she reached
up to hug my brother’s
strong neck…her only son.

i’ve dreamed of mom
standing in the kitchen
smiling; she said to me,
“you’re going to be okay.”

dear mom, we bless,
honor and remember
you again today on your
(missed) 83rd birthday.

we revisit our sorrow
even as you celebrate
joyful life in his presence,
who claimed you as his own!