Comfort

Reaching for comfort, I cradle my phone,

But I know I am grasping at nothingness,

For in my shame and heartbreak,

I have told no one.

There are no words to tell what it is like,

For a mother to see her sons struggle to recover,

From a life she has no understanding of,

One her beloved children are drowning in.

And there is not comfort enough anyway,

To hold and cradle this broken heart,

Or the tears that are the result of so much pain.

But, my sons are alive, and so there is hope,

As I cannot see them for a duration of time,

While I hope and pray that the rehab stay,

Will work some magic as they re-think their lives.

For I have loved them dearly,

And have taught them right from wrong,

I can only hope that as the prodigal son,

My boys will come home to who they really are.