Mother's Day

All the strong proud men who believe they can lift mountains
or blow up cities
for whom we bow in praise
or tremble in fear
still often shed tears and always stop to smile for her.

Even blowhards lower their voices,
hush and listen
when told to hush and listen.

All the grown up little boys
trying to write themselves into the record books,
still playing children’s games
and collecting life’s little trophies
while she quietly prays for them,
and waits like a mountain, unmovable and unassumingly resplendent
for them to finally realize the prudence of her lullabies.

No physical impairments or fleeting misfortunes
can dim her light,
no disagreement about what is or is not
can dilute her wisdom,
no amount of missteps or misdemeanors
can weaken her well-earned pride in our accomplishments,
no amount of years or light years can extinguish
the warmth of the hug that has saved our little lives
more times than all the strong proud men
care to admit.

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