7/25

Three months ago was told its getting late, best
I be on my way. No idea where I'd go, just be gone.
A mother's wish.

Went, wondering why leaving family, hers, was better 
than staying. Left that night going back, no, no going back
My back gone. 

As was hers again and how we deal with our hurts does not
Always make sense. Sometimes hold only to what we are, slight 
Though it be.