Grief at Sixty by Karen Bingham Pape

The hard polished floor of the ICU The alcohol smell of the foam At the door to cleanse the hands From contact with the loved and dying The motions the visits the grind Of finding the heart to see her fade This mother of my former love Clinging to me as a daughter— Connections don’t break they bend In the still after the storm when You think love is lost forever— You find a friend—mother-in-love-- Only to see her go into the shades And onjecture and faith Keep us strong. We bend but don’t Break, shedding tears like salty Rain and remembering courage.

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