Through veils of bright red pain
They bring us to this life;
Through tears and laughter
They love their small pink wonders
Through all those gates they must pass
On their way to full humanity.
They are lilac-love and discipline
Navigators of our stormy seas
Heedless of themselves for our sakes
And they bring us all the soft sweetnesses of home and hearth
That ever call for our return.
And so from every tongue
There falls the sacred one-word prayer
When the wide cold world affrights us
When the hand shakes, palsylike
And the heart beats hard against its cage:
In deep of night
When something unseen stirs
The whispered hope is "Mother".
When the flat grey weight of grief
Lies hard across our shoulders
The word that lifts the stone is "Mother".
For scorch of stove, for frostbite sting
We conjure cool and warm with "Mother".
In the place for giving birth: "Mother".
On the battlefield: "Mother".
Whatever pulls us to our knees
To rudely remind us how small we be
In the Grand Scheme of Things,
The idea of her pulls us up again
For we are hers entire
In a way unique to her -
And things will be alright
Because she says it shall be so,
And one may never never Never
Disappoint that Sacred One: