Letting Go
The sky is grey,
while a mother prays.
She reaches out,
without a doubt.
Holding close the one she loves,
softly as feathers of a dove.
As the palms of the Master’s hand,
holds the falling tears.
She reaches out; releasing her fears,
Grabbing hold of the Master’s hand.

All rights belong to
Mary Tawfik
August 14, 2010