The plea of motherless child begins a heartbreak, broken child a life made from a prison of solitary imagination.
Tough to decode the bulk of the above; I gather it’s poetry of a sort and thus excused from having to make much sense.
I do surmise from it, though, that its author sets a lot of store in motherhood and not so much in fathers. Which I find odd, given that most of the craziest people I ever knew got that way from the way they had been mothered, added to never having known a father, as anything but her beleaguered and under-thumb property, if they had known him at all.
Motherhood, in my estimation, is possibly the most over-rated of all human institutions. With all this talk of “evolution” and “biology” that people throw out carelessly these days to explain away why men and women behave the ways they do, I have yet to see an explanation in those terms as to why of all the species of the animal kingdom that has distinct sexes, ours is the only one whose mothers tend to disregard any natural requirement to see to it that the young grow up and become prepared for autonomous existence. Instead, the norm of human mothers is more one of clinging to their offspring, acting as if they possess them permanently, making it as difficult as possible to spread wings and fly. While fathers, if present at all, look on helplessly or further enable the stunting of youthful maturing by showing an example themselves that giving a mother whatever it is she may want at a given moment is all people are born to do.
And I lay this sad state of affairs directly at the feet of men and manhood. The cycle of maternal supremacy has repeated itself so many times now over so many generations, that rare indeed is that man who looks this bloated and counter-productive status of mothers in the face and calls it what it is: plain selfishness, and all too often passed off melodramatically as “sacrifice.” While all the rest of nature relies mostly on its mothers to implement and enable the maturing of the young, human mothers are busy doing everything they can to see it never occurs at all.
And why? Because men are too weak, servile, lacking in confidence and self-respect, thanks largely to the way we are mothered, to ever stand up to the one of two parents who happens to be female and tell them: “get out of the way, and let them grow up.” And consequently, what passes as adulthood can hardly be called that with a straight face.
I wonder what the human experience would look like, if one fine day mothers decided to do the job nature assigned them, instead of treating their children as their pets and their property, in perpetuity?