The soldier is gone
Perhaps I tried too hard
And the noise
Constant little hands
Cannot stand
Cannot make them proud
The broken reflection I once saw
Is now my own
The silent room
Is now mine
Where can I call?
To find safety
Tree of relief
Mother’s breast
Now I am the mother
Wanting to walk through
Away from the pulling
Calling, begging the silence
to a place where
No one calls my name
Every mother's lament, though few of us can say it like you do.Mothership (I prefer that to 'hood')is the hardest initiation into life.It is relentless and it knows no options.
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