What are faces to my mother
who no longer feels the tug of relationship,
that nagging sensation that used to say
when a face belonged to a friend,
a husband, a daughter.
Faces lost their meaning
& history for her,
beyond a bleeding of color & features
than the lilacs I cut for her
I know she has lost one more part
of what grounds her,
& when that last line is cut
& she drifts unpiloted into sky
she will know nothing else
but that sensation of flight.