The Motherland


She was one who birthed many sons
Who called her mother out of habit,
And they grew and owned her whole
And sang to her their rhymes and tunes.

Her neighbours jeered her now and then
And derided her peaceable strains
But she moved on with her staff
Daring pits on high terrains.

She fell once, twice, many a time
And none watching helped her rise.
Her mission was to climb high up,
Her belly and staff keeping her on.

She reached a post and chose to rest
And looked around for kindred souls,
But there she saw a voracious wolf
With dripping fangs bared in salute.

Is this my end? Thought she,
And stretched out her hand to him
But he grinned so as before,
And surveyed her from head to toe.

Write your name here, he ordered,
And ran his claws on the barren land,
We’ll be friends of tomorrow dear,
If tomorrow is never too far from here.

The wind and rain caught the rumour
And blew it far as it could go,
And her sons got wind of it
And fretted and fumed in wild show.

The dust grew thick and the rain slushy
And she lost her way and her staff
And receded far, far away,
Till she was a shadow in their midst.

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