Am I still your daughter, Mother?
Like an image tattooed in the sky,
I saw you there yesterday.
Your arms were held in a cross above your chest,
your mouth red and drawn,
like a cherry.
Did you love me then?

I remember a time when the sun shone from your face,
radiating with the love you had for me.
We would bask in the summer haze by the brook,
our legs mingling together in the water.
But no longer do we chase those dying days,
and I have grown old.

Were you sorry when you slipped away from me,
the girl with the nose ring and the chip on her shoulder?
I may have shaved my hair into jagged peaks atop my head,
but I am still the same little girl at heart.
You died when I was not yet a woman,
and you barely knew me.
Would my image scare you now,
or would you let down your barriers and hug me?

I missed the days when we were one,
when it seemed the cord was freshly cut.
Can you still see me,
dear Mother,
or has my form drifted from you to eternity?