I tried your phone again.
Where are you?
For nearly a year I had wondered,
and feared the worst.  The last time
we spoke, you babbled on
about babies, kale, and medicine.
None of it made sense to me
Where had your mind gone?
Did you ever think of me,
your only birth daughter?
You had left me once already;
were you going to do it again?
Somewhere deep down,
under my anger lingered a love for you
because you were my mother.
I searched for you once again,
and there it was: your name, the day you died.
My questions will never be answered,
or perhaps they are.  Rest In Peace, Mother.