To my mother, who rushes to the door,

And the mother who smiles good-bye.

Even when she can't take any more.

To the mother who always questioned why,

You always greeted me with a smile.

 

You see, darkness corrupts everything it touches.

Yet you, who shines so brilliantly against blight,

You were always the light in the hallway

Flickering and flashing through the night.

 

Even as his sword sharp words cut your spirit,

You were the battle borne ship,

and He, the claps of thunder that shook it.

And I, merely the obscene obsolete ocean,

churning,

                       churning,

                                                churning,

until the waves crashed and yearned for the sky.

The wasted white water flooded the Earth,

But human nature is a mountain

That cannot be fixed by the death of one.

 

Even in the midst of a world black as jet,

With tension tangible taking the breath out of air,

With self esteem the bottom of the broken sea.

You smile at the poised, poisoned coward.

 

When all is all for naught,

And the winds tempt the words to be bought,

The words you deserve but cannot be uttered:

Thank you Mother.

For you endured in the face of night,

When all I could do was cower.