the Matriarch

in my arms,
she felt fragile
as though her bones
might break...

as though those
muscles, which used
to buck bales,
might fail...

as though her
hands, which blistered
all her children and
grandchildren,
might surrender...

as though her
breath, which made
sure all her family
knows she loves them,
might vanish

in my arms,
her strength remained
as though her job
isn't quite finished...

as though she
has many more
memories to make
for the next generation...

as though she
has many more
cards to send and
letters to write...

as though she
has many more
infectious smiles and
laughter to share