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.
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