I am Mother

I am a mother,

Mother am I.

I am pure of heart and ready to guide.

Although I do not have a daughter

And not a son is given to me.

My child has died.

Not in my arms but inside of me.

I cried until it was all that I could be.

A victim of a war deemed unready to fight

And the battle was all but not mine.

It was the first sign that my body hated me,

And my world has since steadily, readily declined,

And the world did not understand this pain of mine.

So I hid my tears from what they called a victimless crime,

I grew bitter and and ever so passionate within.

I am a mother,

Mother am I.

Even though my child has died.

Even though my child has died.

I am mother,

Mother am I.

Even though you have not seen me cry,

Did anyone even know that I still cry?

I cry for my child in the waking of the day,

I cry for this child when the world is fallen asleep.

And when I don’t cry I dream of her,

I saw her bled into tears when the cuts ran too deep.

On that first sign that my body hated me,

And was ready to take away all the things I love.

So readily and oh so steadily I have come to fear it

For it was ready to take away everything I love.

I don’t want to die, what if it makes me die too?

It is taking away, slowly taking away all that I love.

I feel old before my time and I am in the prime of life

And I should not see the taking of everything that I love.

Now I am alone and lonely and even silence is so loud,

It takes away everything that I was….

I remember the begin now

And the before it even starts.

And I’m slowly losing titles,

The memory retracts, reboots,

Restarts and is down again.

But I am a mother

And I have not forgotten

Even if time slows the memory down.

Mother am I, it always comes back,

And the slumber is awaked by a pang,

A flashback and the lesser thought of what I lack

To save her everytime it comes back.

Will I forget that I am a mother?

Will that be the last sign my body hates me?

Or will I spend my life at least remembering?

And all though painful, keeping her alive?

It was the first sign that my body hated me,

Maybe I am now mother to all those signs?

Now memorized together with my child?

As she left my body, for a moment as did I,

But now I am back in there alive.

I know my body hates me for that too.

That is just the way of life,

Bodily trauma triggering those series of events

That had already been on the edge of knife

Ready to fall on my head.

But I am a mother,

Mother am I.

I think I have at least something to be grateful for.