My mother rises. Lost in the long night,
hearing voices, she reaches for her clothes
and wanders toward the faintly burning light.
Someone mumbles in the room to her right.
Someone screams to her left. Eyes half-closed
as her fear quickens, lost in the long night,
she lives within shattered dreams and the white
space that thought has become. My mother goes
wandering toward the faintly burning light
at the end of the hall. It is not flight
that moves her, but motion for its own
sake, surprising her in the long lost night,
each step its own moment of bright delight.
The distant faces of her parents, Rose
and Max, backlit by faintly burning light,
beckon, then vanish. She smiles at the sight
of them, at the truth her swollen heart knows.
Lost hope rises again in the long night.
She wanders toward the faintly burning light.