The Last Night at Hospice

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She puckered her chin,
Clenched her lips,
In the normal routine
Before she spoke.

Readying herself—
Putting her face on.

But she was too weak to go any further.

Her eyes opened, and for a fraction of a second,
Looked—
In a lucid way.

A way that forever questions
Whether there was an understanding—
I was looking back.

She tried,
And I will never understand how hard she did.
Until perhaps I find myself
On my death bed.

But know that a mother’s love
Need not be expressed

More so than the puckering of a chin,
And opening eyes,
For a fraction of a second.

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