We avoid the topic, diverted glances and changes of subject

The emptiness in me,

The lack of presence in arms folded;

No flesh of my flesh will be rocked by tendons and bone of arms created for cradle,

No cries will be answered with calming coos and soft whispers in engaging darkness;

Some say to comprehend my mother, Mary, God’s Love, to full capacity

is to know the furrowed brow, the quickened heart,

the surrender of self into the waking and sleeping;

I guess I’ll never know the veracity of the platitudes,

I only know what I know.