Like rain water collecting on a single pitiful leaf,
Or the first snow visiting its white burden on a delicate branch,
Nature groans under the weight of her own subjugation,
So it is with my heartsick tale of humanity,
A million souls before me, cry out,
Pleading for reprieve from the avarice possessing their fellows,
They tear at my ventricle, a lifeline woefully lacking in heft,
Too numerous, they,
Perhaps only a mother’s touch,
Indeed a mother’s reign,
Can stanch the tears and bloodshed,
For it is nature that beckons mothers,
And motherhood, with its immeasurable fortitude,
The wherewithal,
That gives me pause to consider
Another hopeful day
