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To the mother that has been trampled and hurt by this world |
| Oh Mother, my Mother. I lay on her ripe belly Breathing in the flowers that Grow on her. Hearing the birds fly Around her. Feeling her green hair Tickling my toes, My Mother. Wind whispering In her reeds, Carrying stories of Ancient ships Buried in the deep Sands of the ocean. Sounds of great Walls, tall buildings and powerful leaders. My Mother. She holds my naked body As I step into her banks, Tiptoeing on her rocky back. Water at my waist, Than my breasts And I disappear In her. My Mother. Dark, stars, night. Crying my heart out in A sleeping flower field. Starlight and lightening bugs Comfort me. I sigh and shutter Than lie back. Back into the flowers. Their sweet smell Filling my lungs, Little heads bobbing in the Summers breeze. They bring contentment. Oh Mother, my Mother. I love you. |