The cradle within me still seeks to be rocked
To quieten the raging storm that is my life.
Baby's cry and sour those tears
I seek in comfort after all these years.
Steady the hand of nurture that I yearn to hold
To placate my worries that haunt my soul.
Sobbing and bitter, painful spikes which splinter
Nights roll by manifesting deep winter.
She comes with poise, and reaches my grasp
A vision of loveliness, oh mother, set me free.
What will become of the pieces which once were my heart
Happiness that cannot be taken apart.