A Mothers Labour

Basins to wash our hands for we must wash, wash, wash

Clean ourselves from days of toil and moving soil

Mother calls us to the table of silence

A prayer of thanks to all that care to hear

I look with baron eyes at empty plates that stare

They show us a sad face

Mother does not care at all

For we must finish what we have and give thanks

So tomorrow help may find us

Time to wash our plates and clean around mother

For she remains ever still and silent be lost words

Mother doesn’t move, doesn’t breath, ever so still

She left us long ago when winter was warmer

The voice she used an echo no more

Back to work on breaking the earth

When is she returning to hold us stronger

Forgive me Mother dearest

Our best is yet to be near us

I will make you beautiful once again

When brother returns with light so we may mend

The dark cloak speaks in foul tongue

Of how we failed and Mother comes undone

Not alive nor dead be them

Just persecution for our labour in destitution