When I am crying or rejected,
the Mother accepts me
into Her arms.
They are warm,
and strong,
and real.
They are everlasting
unlike the job
or the relationship
or the program.
She nudges me ever so gently
telling me
Dear One
this one is not for you
but there is another
It is right there
Keep walking.
So when the path bends and the fog clouds
Mother nudges
She cajoles
She whispers
She wipes tears
She says,
ever so softly,
“I know. I know.”
