Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Poem: 'allmother'

This was my favorite poem from April's NaPoWriMo project.

Every mother weeps
and worries through me,
our tears plentiful enough
to fill the seas over,
then to sob when the tides
rise too high, when caps of
snowy melt tumble over
like the wobbling young.

Fretting over grey cars
wreathed in mist on the
grey highway, no lights on
to ease their travels,
or soothe my mind. I scold
you, my nameless children,
don't hurry so, don't run
and rush past Mother.
Shush, shush.
Rain patters down
and the tears, always tears.
Atlas may hold aloft
the world but who
cradles her, coos and
offers lullaby prayers?
Who wishes more
to swaddle you
tight, to comfort
each of you, every child
to cushion every slight, to wipe
the blood from your
brows and your histories?
I would kiss the curses
from your lips and lift
you from your knees
and chains and hush
your crimes against my bosom.
From my breasts I would
wash your rivers, those
wounded waters;
Would take into my lungs
your poisoned air and
push fresh breaths into
my children all.
Arms thrown open,
encircling the world wide over-
protecting and never enough
Hovering, hovering
above and waiting, vigilant,
for the next fall;
My jaw clenched tight,
watching you fight for things
petty and great,
drawing lines and divisions
I will wash clean
with a finger dampened
from my mouth.
I would bear you forth in pain
again and then more,
I'll labor for centuries
until you can learn to walk
at last—all of you, my loves—
hand in hand.

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