白发枯枯的母亲，                                                安祥的躺在病床上，                                             看起来面色红润无力，                                         长一声短一声的呻吟，                                        在刚刚见到我的时候。                                            我是第一次喊我的妈妈，                                       书面语言的叫她母亲。                                        是不是显得郑重些，                                                在一个苍老的生命面前。                                  母亲絮絮叨叨，焦虑，                                        象是一个无助的悲伤，                                         她给我看她的手指，                                          和已经松成皮的肉，                                             毫无弹性的脓软，                                                连着母亲深深的哀痛，                                        是那行将枯竭的油灯，                                         对生命不舍的光芒，                                             因为惧怕和渴求，                                                眼睛里的混浊在努力，                                        释放残存的清亮，                                               愿母亲仁慈，                                                        做我仁慈的母亲，                                               42年前那个3月13的晚上，                                磁铁吸取我的灵发，                                            来到这个稀奇的世界，                                               我做了你的女儿，                                                   骇然听闻的故事，                                                从来就不稀罕，                                                     在你我敌视的琐碎里繁衍，                                 就如蛆虫的诅咒，                                               没道理的发生。                                                    天意难违，                                                           夜晚的烧灼需要你冷静，                                      你只能清晰的冷静，                                              不要无休止的生气埋怨，                                   我也尽一回，                                                        做女儿的责任和使命。                                          夜里你的手暖住我的脚，                                     多少年没有的温存，                                             就象还是婴啼的时候，                                         远去了的老人们空气里的怜爱，                        没有烦恼的睡去，香甜。