In your silent sleep,
untouched
by scars left vivid
across your soul
a recollection
of all the pretty horses.
She will sing to you,
the song of a mother
who's watching eye
was unable to halt
the battle cry
of the looming war horse.
She will sing to you.
Shedding blood as she
goes,
a daily battle to ease
your passing
from the world where she is queen
into
a world outside her dreams.
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Aside from being just purely beautiful, I must understand what this means. I will return again and again until I do.
ReplyDeleteHaving just written a cathartic piece about motherhood at its worse, I cannot but love the sanity and helplessness of this piece. Sometimes even the womb cannot give another life. Or save the one it gave.
ReplyDeleteAnd... sadly, sometimes it will even betray that life. I still love my mother. She, too, is a Queen of my heart.
ReplyDeleteMother love the most powerful emotion of them all, the power to destroy or the power to save and every shade of grey in between.
ReplyDelete