Like a wing, like a bird, she took flight.
It is best.
She, herself a bird, weightless as a feather
lifted up and flew
not even looking back.
A wisp of smoke
streaking towards the light,
pulled by ancestors and angels and
I could not bear to watch her go.
I was expecting it.
When death comes,
you never know how you will be.
I thought there would be relief.
There was, though bittersweet with
memories and missing her.
Yet from a great distance I could see–
she was standing there,
loving me, her child.