I have inherited my mother's
walking stick.
Her life was harder than mine,
and yet she needed it
much later than I.

Now, when I support myself with it,
I grip once more the hand
that my stubborness
so often resisted
and hear her quiet voice:

'I have always known
that you'll never take good care
of yourself. You are
too much my daughter.
Come! Stand up straight! '