Mothers

Till dusk, she lay in the bed motionless and pale,

But when the shadows gathered in the room,

She sat on her bed and I shuddered soon,

For in her eyes I saw that pleading gaze

That desperate regret onto her face.

She reached, trembling and shaking for my hand

“ I’m sorry, little son, this is the end, “

She whispered in the sweet, mild voice of hers.

For the last time her fingers, with great care,

Combed my locks and she kissed my face

Weeping sad tears, in anguish and in despair.

She left me, and I was only a little child,

With too wise eyes and an innocent soul,

Lost in a dreadful world of fences and wires.

They tried to tame me,

but my heart was free

like the strong blowing winds,

like the rough waters,

like the hawk, the wild deer, the fearless wolf,

And my spirit had light wings to rise and fly

Over the prairie into the wide sky.

A glorious morning at last I rode away

I traveled all day long

On the unknown trail

Until I fell,

My body weary and spent.

And as I lay there,

In the middle of nowhere

I heard the sound of a calm, steady breath

All around me.

As if the rocks, the grass, the rich brown soil

Were living things …

And like a long lost son

The wilderness

Took me into a motherly embrace.

~end~

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© Sept 2004, Chris.
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