My Mother

My Mother’s eyes are on me always,
making sure I am safe.

My Mother’s mind
doesn’t stray
from the thought of me.

My Mother’s hands always pull me
along to greater things.

My Mother’s arms open
to welcome me in.

My Mother’s presence
is always with me.

My Mother’s back
bears the burdens of care.

My Mother’s stomach
has the marks from creating me.

My Mother,

the Mother of all,

the Mother of creation,

the Mother of Goodness,

my Heavenly Mother,

doesn’t stop being my Mother because I can’t see her.

My Mother is My Mother.

Without end.

by Jalisa

White hands in front of white background