mom poem

and so it goes
let us plant
let us pity those who are better off than we are
this is the ship of pearl
gone before us
there is no escape by the river
love me at last, or if you will not
lady, your heart has turned to dust
over the river, on the hill
though i am little as all little things
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
sun stepped down from his golden throne
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
the darkness rolls upward