She knelt in the cold harsh night,
outside the House of God.
The moon watched through the trees, pale and bright,
in sympathy, wanting to give its nod.
Long away from family,
she knew only hunger and pain.
Gone were feelings of living happily,
everyday she struggled to stay sane.
Frail from neglect and sorrow,
no one had heeded her plight.
Shivering, she prayed till the morrow,
hope renewed as the rising sun shone bright.
Trembling, she bowed in prayer,
"Lord, pray bless my children,
they know not what they do, please lest thou waver".
Tears, a mother's love, lighten life's burden.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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