Mother Is Calling Poem by Belle Wassermeister
Mother Is Calling
I hear my mother calling me;
she's just beyond the veil.
I'm still a prisoner in life,
a kind of mortal jail.
The bars are rusting thinner, though;
at least it seems to me.
They'll rust and rust and turn to dust,
and I shall soon be free.
I cannot hurry things along;
let God's own will be done,
and He alone let it be known
when my race has been run.
You're still young A long way to run - Your mum is proud of you!
I cannot hurry things along; let God's own will be done, and He alone let it be known when my race has been run./// beautiful poem penned; excellent expression
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 12:55:44 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
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