Day 18 – Poetry for Lent


I would not leave
though she told me,
Go back, find rest
a husband
a home.

I could not leave
for she was 
a mother to me
her people, my family
her home, my home.

I dared not leave, for
how would she manage
alone and destitute
hands veined blue
legs morning shaky?

And so I followed
that I might be 
her hands young and strong
her legs spry in the morning
sturdy in the evening
her family in the new land
her daughter