Home

Home

We are two 50-year old women

Relearning

How to roller skate

On my mother’s

Smooth, concrete driveway,

Giggling like ten year old girls

In between tears and stories

Of marriage and divorce,

Raising kids, losing pets,

And aging parents.

Home is fragile.

In an instant, it can be lost —

Destroyed by a fire,

Drowned in a flood of desperation,

Split open wide

By the loss of a loved one,

But we are wearing

Our protection,

Prayers like knee pads

To break our falls

And rise again.

I wonder

What my mother sees,

Watching

From her bedroom window.

We are all still

Children.