Echo From a Silent Heart

For Mom


Memories of memories
          imperfect and surreal,
copies made of copies of
          a loss that others feel.

Photographs and traces of
          the one who was my world,
black and white reminders of
          a pretty little girl.

Questions ask me questions
           but answers don't reply,
the echo from a silent heart
           can never tell me why.

The gray and faded image,
            the mother she became,
what do we have in common now
            beyond our common name?

A tattered family bible holds
            a note penned by her hand,
pieces of another's past
            I'll never understand.

And if I ask the questions
            will answers that I find
restore the faded image in
            the bottom of my mind?

Memories of memories
             imperfect and surreal,
copies made of copies of
             the pain I'll always feel.