Object Metaphor
My mother is a sage bundle.
before, in her youth,
growing, changing, evolving–
often in harsh conditions–
she created an entire ecosystem in which we all thrived.
Now, cut down by cancer,
we bundle together what remains.
her children
like reapers
gather her lessons, her love, her grief—
we become the binding ribbon, and, in the binding–
release her back to the wind