THE BEAUTY OF MOTHERHOOD

THE BEAUTY OF MOTHERHOOD

If with the gods I sit in high altars,
In divine rendition of my earthly sojourn;
Counting nature's gifts of fanciful pride,
No marvel would come so close to motherhood.

In strained combat to feed her cubs,
A wounded lioness brightens her maternal shine.
And in feeding her blood to her young,
The pelican of mythic fame gains exotic beauty in child rearing.

Protection is the kicking strength in the long legs of a giraffe,
Loosing hell against the cheetah preying on her offspring.
Or the rough edges of my mother's knees,
Calling on the guardians of my destiny from heaven's gate.

This is the end of a song compressing vast wonders into few lines,
To adorn the mysteries of procreation.
Seeking to give whose seed I bear and her under whose tender watch I emerged,
A deserving praise and immortality!
  To the woman who called me son..
  A humble soul prays for your peaceful REPOSE.