A Rose for living

She bought a rose , deep crimson red,
For Mother's day, though Mom was dead.
Through fields and rain ,past gates of stone,
She walked the path,silent, alone.

She knelt where name and date were craved,
Her fingers traced the whetered scarred.
" I miss you", whispered to the air,
And laid the rose with tender care.

But something shifted in the breeze
A voice ,not wind ,moved through the trees.
" why mourn me still , when truth won't stay?
You've been misled, now clear the way."

She dug with hands both bare and wild,
Not mourning now, but seeking child.
No body lay in earth's embrace
Just broken chains, and empty space.

A letter read : " They made me run.
To keep you safe , it had to be done."
A rose ,you gave . A life , I kept
I watch you still, while you have slept. "