Where are you?

You were with us at the very moment you died. But by the time your funeral rolled around, I knew you were somewhere else. But, where? Your beauty never left you. The strength written on your face. In death, you revealed yourself. A warrior. And then you left. Did you start another battle? Did you save those in need?Are you dancing on a stage? Have you hidden yourself in a Degas or Renoir? Are you fiddling with your friends?  Nestled in a page of a novel?

It's just that I would like to know where you are. So that I know you are protected and safe. I wanted to cradle you in my arms as you lay dying. Mother to you, my own mother. It always happens that way when we are lucky enough. And we were lucky.

Will you send me a sign? It can be mundane. A copper penny. The moon beam catching my face at an odd moment. A parade of snails at my feet. Just let me know. And if you don't. If you have left us behind to find our own way now, I will understand.

In the transformation from old to young, from mother to daughter, you became the maidele once again. Tired of being the North Star for everyone who passed your way. The path no longer worn. I don your clothes. I comfort the bereaved. The circle completes itself.