POETRY

Three Hearts
by Irene Sedeora

My brother, I saw our mother’s face
for a crisp moment as if
she was there with us
her love spilling over the sterility

of the room, the steady drip of the IV tube,
the digital monitor with its occasional beep-beep.
My brother, for a transient moment
I saw our mother’s face in yours

as you, with dread
lay waiting for morning
when the surgeons would open
your proud chest and reach your heart,

its arteries filled with a lifetime of excess.
Too fleeting the shimmer
revealed in the tilt of your head
your eyes becoming her wisdom

a ghostly sifting into the room
from another realm.
Three hearts as one, beating.
We were together again.

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