They say, “She’s at rest.”

Their bald mother lays with distorted breast.

Breasts that fed


Arms that held


Her warm smile

Her voice

Her love

Locked in the vault of the soul.

Her children’s liminality has ended.

Today, they are only parents

They can throw away the adult diapers

The myriad of pills and medical terms.

The night watch.

Both relief and grief

As they say “she’s at peace.”

Ten years she battled.




Tears and more tears mingled with fear.

Doctors, doctors and — as it spread — more doctors.

“She battled for us” they said.

“For her grandchildren and children”

The end wasn’t met with a fight

But embraced

Because death was the savior.

Death the midwife of peace and freedom

From the pains of a broken body.

“We are at peace”, they say

After a last look, they walk away.

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