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(a sleeping prayer)
I wear a tear around my neck and it is for my Brother the first son born but the least favored by his Mother the womb is a curious thing it brings forth life but sometimes the womb doesn't know it brings forth strife my Brother sleeps in a truck a truck that's not His own He wears His pain as if it were His crown it has grown into Him as He has grown oh the womb is a curious thing if brings forth life but sometimes the forgetting womb doesn't know it brings forth strife my Brother has been struck numerous blows upon His head and bad chance and ill luck have wed themselves unto His stead oh the womb is a curious thing if it brings forth life why is it the precocious womb doesn't know sometimes it brings forth strife my Brother cannot conceive of how He has succumbed to His unkind fate least beloved of His Mother not comprehending of why His current state oh the womb is a fortuitous thing when it brings forth screaming life when an unwilling woman, an unhappy Mother secretively disdains the new small life my Brother seems flattened and crushed somehow beyond the willing hands of hope I've entrusted him to the Creator perhaps the Big Sky of Love will help Him cope oh woe the womb, a most fundant being the omniscient Inventoress of life when the womb isn't filled with a growing love a Mother's bitterness transforms the unborn son. _________________________ this poem came to me to me in the darkness of my sleep and sorrows legal copyright for this work/poem by this author/writer for this site title: Melissa A Howells/Meloo straight from her Tilt-a-World November 14, 2016 6:34 am official time and date stamp written directly to the page Father wrote a note to the Son, thank you for giving Daddy just what he wanted...Mother labored for yet again too long-- within another 50 plus hours the son was born-- marked with forceps and crow-dark haired, not red flaxen as her first daughter. yet both children were of the same face and temperament...serious ones. Vote for this poem |
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