Mother's Day Poem by andrew reeves

Birthed of the Earth
nothing but big eyes, and blankets, and water and feet
bloody skin, and screams, with precise calculations or clumsily
to worry, to anticipate, and meet the needs
of racing around, and winding down, the sound it breathes
of picking toys, whirling the dance of the congregate, without ceasing
blood of my blood, heart of my heart
the mothers child woven intricate, obsessiveness
the fire burns from the love given, possessiveness
to walk, and make sounds, the hands toil
to stand up, and fall down, the life uncoils
for what does freedom and independence mean to the earth?
for that congressman and that professional, the mother grieves
the depths, the heights of wondrous things, the faith reciprocate, a vexed belief
producing hope and songs throughout eternity
along a path of boundless worth
the strength of silence dares not say
the bride of love birthed of the earth
to welcome, a very happy mother's day