This poem is in the form of a benediction or blessing. I imagine it recited in an Irish accent, for some reason. Something like the Serenity Prayer, I suppose. Anyway, hope you enjoy this overdue salute, to the sacrifices of all the moms out there, trying to raise kids of whatever age. Thanks for coming by to read.
God bless The child-distressed, Who from duress Make happiness, The ones who ache With loneliness, When children go A-missin'. God save The mothers, brave, Who man the stove And guard the grave, Who sit a-bed With little knaves, Their broken bones A-kissin'. God speed To those in need, Who never once The sanction heed, To slow down, Tilting off, top speed, Until their foreheads Glisten. God kiss The broken miss, Who thirty years Ensured their bliss, Who wonders, if There's more than this, Though no one is A-listenin'. Copyright 2021 Andrea LeDew
Check out another poem on motherhood: Mother First.
I particularly like the last stanza.
Thanks, Liz. I think particularly in our era moms have it tough, because the demands of biology and ambition may conflict.
Yes, I agree. If I remember correctly, it was in the 1980s that women were led to believe they could have it all, thereby feeling guilty and inadequate when they couldn’t.
Although my days of “being in the trenches” of motherhood are long over, we mothers never cease worrying about and doing for our children, do we? Thank you for sharing this lovely poem. And yes, in my head it was read with an Irish accent!
Very true. It is a commitment for life, signed and sealed at the moment of birth, if not before. And in their adult years, sometimes our hardest worrying is done, while silently maintaining a respectful distance. 😊
I could feel
The Irish accent as this was so clever
It is funny how sometimes poems and stories come with voices attached! Glad the accent seemed to suit the words.
Thank you, Priorhouse! Its lovely to hear from you!