To whom
Owe we
Our “thanks”
For being born?
To her
Whose contractions
Thrust us
From her womb?
To her
Whose loving arms
Have held
Close to her bosom
Her softly throbbing heart
Us
Our little selves
Impervious to all
Except the steady
Thurr-ump, thurr-ump, thurr-ump
Which served
To bind more close
Our separate selves.
OR
Is in fact
Our debt
Beyond her borne
Carried to him
Who in an act
Of love [ or lust ]
Fulfilled a wish
And by the laws
That are
Initiated motherhood?
OR
Further still,
Should not our eyes
Beyond our parents pass?
Beyond the sight
Which mortal eye perceives
A God, no doubt,
Is next what mind conceives.
To say the mind
In doing this does well
That's a secret
Death alone shall tell!
© M. Barrett – all rights reserved
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