At first I was convalescing from death,
Then from my silence.
A fury of tidiness engulfed me.
I had to put my life in order.
I didn't know when, where, how
One begins to live.
I whispered: mother, this fury never left you,
As if it were your little answer
To the chaos of pain.

Background: years later- a conversation between me and my mother about her eternal longing for order in life.