THE MOTHER
Posted: Thu May 07, 2015 4:38 pm
THE MOTHER … Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
So when pray ends this madness? Tell me when will we know peace?
Is war the God to whom we sacrifice both man and beast?
In Pagan times they did just that – we claim we’re civilized.
To me it doesn’t seem like that. I look with Mothers eyes.
Across the world regardless of what land you may call home
somewhere there is a mother sitting frightened and alone,
remembering that first sweet breath and fearing now the last
and knowing that she can’t be there, can’t stop the deadly blast
that might just steal a life away – a life that she helped form;
a life she nurtured over years that from her will be torn
in moments brief and agonized, on soil far, far away
and she is lost and helpless and can do nothing but pray.
A mother’s arms are loving and a mother’s arms are strong
but they’ve no magic powers to protect or cure what’s wrong.
The mother’s heart is breaking for her world’s in its demise
and there’s none to blame but man who’s born of woman as she cries.
So when pray ends this madness? Tell me when will we know peace?
Is war the God to whom we sacrifice both man and beast?
In Pagan times they did just that – we claim we’re civilized.
To me it doesn’t seem like that. I look with Mothers eyes.
Across the world regardless of what land you may call home
somewhere there is a mother sitting frightened and alone,
remembering that first sweet breath and fearing now the last
and knowing that she can’t be there, can’t stop the deadly blast
that might just steal a life away – a life that she helped form;
a life she nurtured over years that from her will be torn
in moments brief and agonized, on soil far, far away
and she is lost and helpless and can do nothing but pray.
A mother’s arms are loving and a mother’s arms are strong
but they’ve no magic powers to protect or cure what’s wrong.
The mother’s heart is breaking for her world’s in its demise
and there’s none to blame but man who’s born of woman as she cries.