You, so kind and caring for 89 years

You, who struggled from poverty and rejection

To sainthood in my eyes

Mother, you asked me ” where am I “

As you lay confused in your sick bed that night.

I said ” you are in my house, under my roof

And nothing will ever harm you”

She smiled and fell asleep

Never to awaken again.


And when we laid her in her grave,

The Levite sprinkled sacred soil

From the distant holy Olive Mount

To consecrate this patch of ground

Amidst the gentle baleful sound

Of ancient plaintive prayers.


I loved her as I always had

And knew her favorite photograph

Of her and Father by that flame-red bush

Lay lovingly upon her breast,

As once again she took her place

Beside him in eternal rest.