Orphan is Refugee

I read somewhere,
Or maybe I wrote,
Every woman dies with her mother.
Some dependent connection
Gets severed; You drift
A star without orbit
Spinning aimlessly off-course
Love in complexity
A multi-stranded cord
Unbreakable
Suddenly frays, snaps, is
Lost.
Lost…
Lost is the cord
Tethering your identity
To the old world, to her world,
The land of your origin
Amniotic antiquity
You almost remember
Through her own sepia memories
You absorbed
And the chaotic days
You fumbled through
Seem insufficient
To fill the void
Of her story
A world dies with her
And your roots lose the earth
And clench and gnarl into
Empty fists
Empty fingers
All slips through…

The little moments:
A sneaky smile,
An heirloom skill,
A chance to glance
Into the future, to see
What a girl grows up to be.