Indifferent.

It was one word,
Eleven letters,
A description of,
A feeling—
Spoken with a tone,
Robotic and cold,
Lending weight to,
A feeling—
Said with no expression,
To mar the face,
Of its speaker,
A feeling—
It was one word,
Indifferent,
That shattered,
A heart—
Fifteen of love,
In the cross hairs,
Aimed precisely at,
A heart—
Injured almost to death,
But a mother’s love,
Only outshone by God,
A heart—
Whose very being defies, indifference.

            dfav 11/6/16

—Donna