Jan 2017
Mother
Always bearing the heavy hearts of her crying children.
Healing the wounds of the forgotten and lost.
Mending the bones of the injured soldiers. But in the end we always take her for granted.
Like when you forget a pen without the paper, the tree without the dirt, the animals without a home.
Though we have love for her we beat her call her useless yell like an angry teen screaming i hate you when she unleashes her punishment. But she is still our mother, our womb, our world around us and we chip and scrap the pureness off her back to build ourselves ...and she lets us...crying and hurt shes there ....but like most mothers too old and beaten to care for their young one day she will only be a whisper in the wind. A memory of the past, and a simple thing we have always taken for granted, but with this misused love we are forever sorry.
- Malaya Mealy
Always bearing the heavy hearts of her crying children.
Healing the wounds of the forgotten and lost.
Mending the bones of the injured soldiers. But in the end we always take her for granted.
Like when you forget a pen without the paper, the tree without the dirt, the animals without a home.
Though we have love for her we beat her call her useless yell like an angry teen screaming i hate you when she unleashes her punishment. But she is still our mother, our womb, our world around us and we chip and scrap the pureness off her back to build ourselves ...and she lets us...crying and hurt shes there ....but like most mothers too old and beaten to care for their young one day she will only be a whisper in the wind. A memory of the past, and a simple thing we have always taken for granted, but with this misused love we are forever sorry.
- Malaya Mealy
