by Claire Phillips-Latham
You suckled babies,
Used the biceps I studied
To lift and cradle
Your rising suns.
You gazed soft-eyed
Optic nerves firing,
Muscles lifting delighted smile,
Nerves and muscles you later let me see.
In life, you were a mother,
Giving love and beating heart
To raise new family
generations.
Cancer took you,
But before your work was done,
You ROSE, Lazarus-lifted,
And we opened your body,
Marvelling at the beautiful inner-workings,
I will remember
Your lungs, heart,
And purple polished nails.
Much gratitude
From another
generation of doctors
Learning to heal.
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