Mother and Child

Such a lofty subject seemed out of place
Among these staid and simple folk.
Certainly your face gave nothing away
 
As you handed it to her.
A pen-and-ink icon of mother and child,
Copied from an old book cover.
 
I didn’t see it at first
But her quick glance, and the tears starting
Gave me pause. I looked again
 
And recognized suddenly the dark, dark circles
You’d put around her eyes
(I knew them well)
And the child’s outstretched hand.
 
Not out of place after all, in that house
Of all houses. When we drove away
I watched the same sad eyes
 
Staring out the window at the long, long road
Still weeping, still rent apart,
Pondering all these things deep in her heart.