THE MOTHER

                       THE MOTHER

The mother sighs, gazing through the stained dirty window,

watching people and traffic busily and dustily go past.

What will become of her children, as they through life go;

and shall this agony within, of unbearable uncertainty last?

                                  *********

The heavy ache, pervasive in its talon-like gripping state,

cloaks her bending body as she meanders through her chores;

never leaving, only slipping away when sleep does dictate,

festering daily, like gaping, seeping, unsightly raw sores.

                                  *********

She remembers the feel of small bodies pressed in her arms,

little ones, that capture her heart, with their trust and love.

Sweet breathes caressing her face, precious lovely charms,

little children, whom she bore, mightily blessed from above.

                                   *********

Her longing thoughts are of those swiftly passing seasons,

touching her mind more often in this lonely aimless life;

and finds her quietly weeping, without rhyme or reasons,

wanting peace and happiness, never ever burning strife.

                                   *********

Groaning under fears of facing uncertain survival for all;

Father grant her strength and courage these latter days,

for she is stumbling, fumbling, tumbling, about to fall.

Fill her days with fair lights, instead of perpetual greys.

                                   **********

Why has fateful life given her this painful hurting wrong?

She whispers to her children:“bonds of love will always be!”

Encompassing them fiercely, for them, she must stay strong,

no matter where life pulls us, to make our eventual destiny.