Thursday Morning

It's only fitting that it is snowing on Thursday morning
even though it is the first of May.

May.

"Mother, may I? Mother, may I take one step forward?" 

  "Yes you may."

But alas, I cannot. It is Thursday morning, after all, and 
I am captive in my bed with a pair of broken legs.

Broken legs, a broken frame, a broken heart.

Thursday morning is the morning after the tears--
Wednesday possessed the whole of that,
and all that is left for today is the burning eyes,
fatigue, resignation, and mighty silence.

Surrounded by these four walls, I can only speculate
what lies outside the windows and doors. 
I do not care.
I prefer to stay here--
in the fire of my eyes,
in the deafening silence,
where everything is still,
and I am shattered.

"Mother? Mother, may I? Mother, may I have my mother?"

Because only a mother can heal these wounds.