Jeremy Seligson writes

MOTHER

 

She is sitting 

on a rock 

enjoying the sunshine 

up on the mountain 

and greets me  

with a smile 

and a young voice 

which belies her white hair. 

“When I was 23," 

she tells me, 

“My mother got in  

an automobile accident 

so I stayed at home 

taking care of her 

for 35 years. I bathed 

and fed her, carried her 

to the hospital. 

She would say,  

'Who are you!?' 

and get upset. 

She died last year. 

All my friends 

have gone away."

“How could you bear it?” 

“She was my mother.”

 

 Old Woman -- Marta M. Tomosy-Herman