Only yesterday we were orphans.

Disconnected names on a tree of barren branches.

Only empty limbs within reach.

Arms too short, fingers too ignorant

to find their way up to the lap she once offered,

soft bread baked with love,

the warm blanket of home in her clear eyes.

Stumbling across her long-forgotten face,

my heart blooms in a shock of colors.

I see my mother, my sisters in the shape

of her round cheeks and dark curls.

Her unexpected wry smile reaches down from the past,

Suddenly strong hands grip our fingers

and she pulls us all close to her heart.

Orphans no more.

Today she drapes around us like a cloak. Ours.