There is a place somewhere
Between letting go and
Holding on
Where she exists.
She is your neighbor
Your grocer
Your friend
Your banker
Your Sunday School teacher
Your high school classmate
She is the lady next to you
In church.
She is the invisible mother
Sometimes she’s holding the hand
Of her visible children
Sometimes her arms are deceptively empty
But both carry the weight of an invisible child
Of children
Unmet
Unseen
She carries on
She carries her child with her
Everywhere.
No one sees
Because she is an invisible mother.
She is so many of us
That reaches out, that sees.
Through the darkness
The cloak
And offers her hand, her achingly empty arms to say
I see you.
I am you.
Me too.
And together, the invisible mothers
See
And are damn strong.