Mother

Mother

By dan ankers

Mother is a word for a role

Not just a person but a place within the

Soul

Where someone comes and always stays

And never leaves

Even after death, that place is kept

Their essence cleaves

The stones of life are many

Thrown in a hail

And lobbed by Giants

Awesome Tyrants  Clad in Mail

Insults are many, they have plenty

And they weave

Paths of destruction

Through the throngs of us they cleave

But there are places that their wounds may never aim

And there are spots within us all where they can’t peek

That’s where the God of our Admission stands its watch

And Steadfast Comfort of our mother plants its keep

And as those two things array

Where none may harm

We find our will to act alone

For other’s eyes

And on our lone hill we fight armies

Standing watch

Reaching out our hands to the sakes

of others

As they climb