Telephone rings
“Come home”
Tangled abstract concepts
stampede through my mind
as I complete the journey home.

Home,
so many people,
so many strangers.
Mother,
reaching out to me (to me)

“She didn’t make it”
Floodgated release of emotion
as the words register.
Tears, anger, disbelief
draining a dissolving faith.

In the arms
of my mother,
I cry,
I bleed,
I hold on.

Loss accompanied by a procession
of ritual sympathy (pity?).
Nothingness
Last rites
Rage.