Caught In A Web, They Cannot Dis-enmesh

You, with your everlasting sorrow mom deserve nifty hands and healing ways of You, who always loved with the truest calm now sit bereft of food and needs God's glove You, the womb that bore consecrated Zen sit still with your emptiness praying that You, will once more be as fertile as a hen fresh as the ocean in God's special vat You, who have given us bounty with grace have birthed a sapling, a seed, and the bud You, Mother Earth whos honest clean faced has always provided with substance and sud They, who have loitered and taken your fresh, are caught in a web, they cannot dis-enmesh.