For a Mother Cloaked in Strife

Something indomitable in
Her petrified wooden
Eyes, pierces
Through a curtain of
Chestnut hair

Her former self dances
In a dream
A false hope for salvation,
A lie that lies with her
It's pointed tail poppy-red

And her new self is a shadow
With black sunglasses
Black hair with a star cut
In the side
Black clothes

She is not in mourning
But in night
One that ends with a
Daughter's words
An infant's smile

She is a moon
Ever waxing
Ever waning
Ever tempted
Ever Strong