War Mother Poem by Lisa Winett

Mother Rock, I sit solidly on the porch
as the May wind blows the lanterns.
Like the family stone I hold this space
while the children's lives soldier on
to the fields of hearts where swords and shields
penetrate and cover, where new blood is drawn.

I am finally finished playing in the war.
My position is still, as the wind washes past my solid form.
This day all moves around me,
with me washing away, eroding with each brush of every breeze,
my blue jeans fading in sunshine,
my gray hair streaking as it lingers to my shoulders.