Seemingly self-possessed she waits while
inside her angst treads her stomach brusquely
and her mother’s stone-cut face betrays
no fear for the truth they both already know.
Both sit statuesque waiting for the knock,
the opening of the door, the doctor pulling
his stool close, laying a hand on the mother’s shoulder
words caught in fragments….
emotions….dysfunctional brain looping
loathsome words throughout her system just like
the cells killing her mother but somewhere
he was still talking and she tried to concentrate
…surgery…recovery....go from there…
She watched her mother, heard her sigh before she turned and
looked her in the eye
Her strong voice proclaimed “We already knew that
now tell us where we need to go!” and then she smiled and
her mother’s strength, her hand clasped softly, told her
this moment wasn’t the time to fall apart.