A branch has been severed too large to bare.
No sunshine gives growth to my trees empty aspect.
No shade provides a quarter for comfort from the sun's hight.
In spring sap bleeds like a cut weeping willow from this missing limb.

To leave my son behind across a mighty Ocean,
In a foreign land, to be raised by a stranger,
brings me to my knees and cracks my vacant vessel.
Left is a leaky tear torn troff, empty of a ladle's drink.

During the bright of day when I call out his name.
The words echo through the halls to return unheard.
The pain of the moment gnaws

At something so deep and incomplete
As to shake my very foundation, reducing it to dust.

When at last we talk long-distance our voices quiver and break
With a longing that aches to hold one another so tight we might
Just merge and converge with an overflowing end to our loss.
For now we assure one another with a strength to endure.
This gives the solvent to cure and melt these heavy hearts of stone.
'To leave my son behind,' are simply words that will dissipate in time.