A Letter to Mother at Home

Mother, it rained here this afternoon,
soaking the washing and a little of my longing.
I am well,
only still learning to fold my clothes neatly.

Mother, your prayers reach me
in the narrow hours,
in the memorising that falters,
in mornings that open heavily.

When I come home,
I will tell you everything,
including the part I had no room
to write in this letter.