She holds her children
as if she could keep them forever,
as if her arms could become
a wall against time,
drawing the world smaller
into her universe of warmth.

Fingers trace small backs,
pressing hope into tender spines—
their touch speaks louder
than any prayer.

This is how she endures—
a calm sentinel,
watching the winds rise,
gathering her own
against the open maw
of the world,
drawing them closer
into her silence
to remind them
they are safe.