You, with your everlasting sorrow mom
deserve nifty hands and healing ways of
You,  who always loved with the truest calm
now sit bereft of food and needs God's glove

You, the womb that bore consecrated Zen
sit still with your emptiness praying that  
You, will once more be as fertile as a hen  
fresh as the ocean in God's special vat  

You, who have given us bounty with grace  
have birthed a sapling, a seed, and the bud
You, Mother Earth whos honest clean faced
has always provided with substance and sud

They, who have loitered and taken your fresh,  
are caught in a web, they cannot dis-enmesh.