Cutting Gladiolas

Who will she count on now?

Mary and Her Flowers by Mark Tulin

This is the way my wife copes:
She cuts gladiolas,
says a few prayers
and reads her name
in the obituary
several times.

She lost her solace,
a mother she depended upon.
She left her without a moment’s
notice,
fell into a void
and disappeared.

Who does she trust now?
Where does she go for comfort?

Now that her mother is gone,
whose warm hand
will guide her
with compassion
and grace?

Does she replace her,
or does she pine for what’s missing?
Is she strong enough
to finish the race,
or too tired to do it alone?

Her therapist said
she’ll heal in her own time —
follow a narrow path,
a road that winds
with less resistance
and hardship.