She Lives To Lift Poem by Lewis Dever

She lost her mother young,
in a hush that stole the dawn—
like a silent storm that sweeps the land,
leaving shadows where sun had shone.

The world seemed hollowed out,
a place too vast and gray,
where echoes of her mother's voice
would rise, then drift away.

Yet in that aching quiet,
she found her mother's grace—
a whisper wrapped in kindness,
soft as memory's embrace.

With each step forward, broken,
she learned to mend with care,
to give of herself freely,
to be present, to be there.

She helped the lost find shelter,
and soothed the weary soul;
she pieced together others' hearts,
made them, somehow, whole.

For when she looked inside her,
through the sorrow, through the ache,
she found a strength unmeasured,
a light no loss could take.

Her heart grew wide with purpose,
her hands gave warmth away,
and every act of kindness
was her mother's love replayed.

So though she walks without her,
her mother's spirit near,
she lives to lift the burdened—
and holds each life dear.