December 31, 2016

Who am I, now?

   A daughter,

     without a mother.

Grown, but not finished.

   How will I birth,

   without the one who birthed me?

 

Who am I, now?

   A dog,

       without a master.

A creature needing to be

   fed,

     and walked

       and led,

  without the one who leads?

 

Who am I, now?

   A mother,

      with one less daughter.

Am I less of a mom?

A half mom?

Without the one to mother?

 

Who am I, now?

   A husband,

     without a wife.

A lover,

   without my beloved.

In sickness and in health,

   but now death has done us apart.

 

Who will we be,

   without the one who held us together?

Without the one who knew us,

   and loved us,

      and made it all be okay?

 

We will be who she grew us to be. 

And it will be hard.

But she reveled in the hard stuff,

   and the glory will be God's,

   and we will remain hers,

   and we will be who she loved us to be,

   because we must.