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Poem

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
They bring us all the soft sweetnesses of home and hearth
That ever call for our return.

So from every tongue
There falls the sacred one-word prayer
When the wide cold world affrights us
When the hand shakes, palsy like
As 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 -
Things will be alright 
Because She says it shall be so,
And one may never  never   Never
Disappoint that Sacred One:

"Mother".

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