Our mother, who suffered
The pain, dressed in blood
Throughout ev’ry hour of our birth
And who clothed us, and fed
Going hungry instead
To ensure we would still tread the Earth
Who swallowed her fear through
Indignities, rife
Undergoing the terrible burn
What right have we now
To condemn to a life
Watching each of us suffer in turn
When we choose not to eat
Not to dream, work or sleep
Ev’ry action will cut to the quick
And no solace may be
Found in such mystery
As determining why we are sick
For it’s hardly the motive
That causes her pain
But the misery votive revisits again
So it’s down with the razorblades,
Needles and gin
We must seek out a path to be trod
In the knowledge there’s more
Than our own suffering
The unqualified shouldn’t play God
And we’ll pick ourselves up
Just a day at a time
As we manage what ills we create
Easing out of the rut
And back into our prime
Finding out why a life’s worth the wait
‘Til we’re set on a course
With less call for remorse
Fewer annual flowers to buy
To apologise for
Ev’ry injury’s force
No more ‘sorry’s’ for making her cry
Ev’ry child has to learn
Where they fit, each in turn
So we stand on our strength and our skill
For our mother to see
We are proud just to be
What fates Destiny gave us to fill
Katherine Shirley 