to my mother

Cradled in your arms
I heard your tears.
I was a
small comfort
in the face of death
in one so young,
so pure,
so bright.

Cradled in your house
You heard my tears.
You were a
small comfort
in the face of loneliness
in one so yearning,
so hurt,
so angry.

Now cradled in the mirror
I see myself
and I see you.
The tears I cry are yours
pulled from the same well
carried in the same bucket.

This is a
small comfort:
so small,
so big,
so true.