by Jen Rubin

Most mornings I awake in the darkness,
With silence surrounding me.
All footsteps are outside my window.
And even in storms,
There is a bright blue star,
I can see through the clouds
When the curtains are drawn.

I awoke that day, though,
To the sound of smothered sobs and slippered steps,
Quietly crawling toward
My bedroom door.
I peered out through
The curtains of my window,
And the star was not there,
In the crystal clear sky.

My mother’s swollen eyes
Appeared in the darkness of my chambers before.
She switched on the light,
She climbed into my bed and curled up,
Under the fluffy cover.
She sobbed into my pillow about her loneliness,
And used my arms
To hold herself up.