Only A Mother

 

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Only a mother.

Only a mother
Can hear the faint
Stirrings of her charge
Two rooms away
With the radio on,
The TV on and
Their girlfriend sharing
A sweet piece of gossip.

Only a mother
Would know when
Her child is in distress.
No matter how many times
He or she says they are okay,
She knows that waves
Of anguish crash against
The shores of her child's soul.

Only a mother
Would sing her child's praises
Even if others spew nothing
But malicious lies
Or necessary truths.
In her eyes,
In her mind, her child
Can do no wrong.

Only a mother
Could love the little creature
With the pointy head,
The squishy face
And the screaming mouth
That came from her loins,
Not knowing what the future
Holds for it or herself.

Only a mother,
and yet not all women
Who give birth
Deserve the name,
The word, mother.

Not every woman
Would love, nurture
And support a child
From when they are
So vulnerable to when
They are ready to let go
And claim the helm of their lives.

So to all the mothers,
Who have loved,
Who have shed tears
Or both joy and sadness,
Who have held their heads
High with pride or in spite
Of their disappointment,
Who have been
A guide through
The tumultuous times of
Childhood, teenagerdom,
and on becoming an adult.

To these mothers,
Be the women or men
Who have to be both
Fathers and mothers,
I raise my glass and
Say we love you,
We honour you and
Thank you.