"Mother"

She is the strangest of God's Creations,

Beautiful and tender of heart and soul.

And though she may seem perfect in form,

There is one little blemish in her mould.

However may her soul be touched by life,

Tears will overflow the brims of her eyes.

She cries at every happy occasion,

She cries when her heart is ripped by pain.

Those around her watch her and wonder,

If all is well and she is not insane.

When you were little, she kissed your tiny feet,

Your cherub face, your smooth brow,

Your each little finger she held in awe.

Every time she folded you in her arms,

She thanked the boundless mercy of God.

You were the bundle of joy in her life,

Her peaceful refuge from troubles of life.

Your laughter was her reason to live,

The sweetest music to her ears.

And your tears, God forbid your tears!

Fell on her soul like molten fire.

When all was quiet and the world around her,

Lay shrouded in the blanket of deep slumber.

She lay awake despite her fatigue,

Keeping a silent vigil over you.

In her heart were endless desires,

Her wish was to see you grow a certain way.

She prayed you grow up kind and gentle,

Ready to forgive and eager to embrace.

She tried to reach you from the depth of her heart,

And teach you the value of humility;

For boughs that are heavy with abundant fruit,

Bend not but downward to the earth beneath.

She prayed you learn of the peace in forgiving,

As when you forgive you set yourself free,

From the bondage of baseness that sears the heart,

And shackles the spirit that is born free.

Her love was revealed in a thousand ways,

You understood some, while some were mystery.

You did not understand her scourge, her anger,

Why she did not fulfill your every fantasy.

It was her love for you my child,

That kept her from spoiling you with undue indulgence.

For she wished to prepare you for the difficulties of life,

She endeavoured to impart the art of acceptance.

Had she been unwise in her treatment of you,

Had she shown weakness of determination,

She would have done you no favour my dearest,

For you would have suffered the ramifications

Of her oversight and failure in rearing you.

Time is a bird that flies on swift wings,

And man may only witness the changes it brings.

Now you are grown up, enlightened and wise,

On the threshold of a new beginning of life.

It may be you are far, but in miles alone,

And never in loving heart or mind.

She knows you may have dreams of your own,

Not far removed from hers for you;

And so she prays every moment of her life,

She says a prayer and blows it your way,

So you are happy and you are safe,

And never wanting in the treasures of life.

Your every little trouble gives her sleepless nights,

Your every little wish becomes her mission in life.

She places her entire being, her very soul,

Into her silent supplications.

She is oblivious to all around,

Imploring, begging, forehead glued to the ground.

And when her prayers are heard and answered,

Again she finds her brow on the ground.

It is her desire that when she is old,

You will still love her and respect her the same;

That you will not lose your patience with her,

And you will be proud to bear her name.

That you will still seek her company,

And you will not shun her for senility.

There will be moments when you will find,

She will become a test for you my child.

It is then she hopes that you will be strong,

Will not lose heart and be gentle and kind.

Her only reward for her toils is your love,

In that is her pride and her gratification;

But that is an aspect of her love for you too,

For in your love for her will be salvation for you.