Tether

When your cord’s cut

and your mother doesn’t catch the end

because her hands are too full of loss

you fly off

even as you reach for her.

You try real hard to be her child

until you both believe it

but at your core you know

no hand holds you

and you are adrift.

Again and again it comes.

The longing.

The flying off.

The forgetting.

Yearning and disappointment

cycle through

until you lose heart

until your hands freeze

half extended

not quite reaching

for what never reaches back.

And now

cushioned by

the familiar sadness

of your loss

you turn

at last

knowing you and only you

can catch that long-ago,

ever-present end

and be the tether

that brings you here.