What Love begets

The mother loved him before she met him. On days when her love posed a threat She gambled with her health And cradled him against her breast, And clenched her teeth to preserve the gift her love begets. She supposed that with this seed Her soul could soar free, And he- her gentle dove- Would one day bring her comfort from all the men who gave her unreciprocated love. The day came when, in her jubilee, The mother held him close as he suckled. She journeyed with him through desert lands And her love planted seeds that sprouted Fruits from the sand. Then one day - In a cataclysmic transform - He despised the graceful garlands on his head And instead She bled from the blow of his knuckles. She watched him pluck the pendants from his neck. And in his unreciprocated love, the mother was decked. She nurtured him, still, for love bears all. So in her hospice, she held him close. For what does he know, what does he truly know “Of Love's austere and lonely offices”?