Mother's Prayer
21st Century
My brother stands before me
ready to kill.
To embrace the stab of hate
and be killed
or dismount his proud head.
In a fix I press the button.
The bloodhounds set free
upon the children of one mother
who shared bread
and broth in one kitchen,
basked in the fire of the same hearth,
slept under the same roof
and played hide-and-seek.
How to retrace from the precipice,
avert the headlong fall.
Mother is lacerated by each wound
her children inflict upon one another,
The irreparable loss is hers,
the tragedy of her sturdy youth is hers.
For never shall it be the same again.
Every mother prays for
long life of her sons,
their well-being,
their blossoming,
wants peace to sing
her anthem of creation.
Every mother wants this;
yes, every mother.
She wants peace,
for sure, peace,
no war, not even a scuffle.
Spreading her cloth, she wails:
come my children, come home,
there are forces who will not let us live,
they have planted bombs
all over my bosom.
Throw away this forty-seven,
spare your mother's womb.
I can bear the shock of explosion
but not another forty-seven.
Let mother show the way
when mankind has strayed away.
DayPoems Poem No. 2769
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/2769.html">Mother's Prayer by Madan G. Gandhi</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
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