Mother and It
Prosperity comes at a cost. But, to have it at the loss of our own, at the demolition of our home, is it worth it?
Waves of green, thick and thin,
Now unseen, almost gone,
Clad Mother, on her blue skin.
Before It was born
In the dense folds of her golden hem,
It played as It evolved.
She let It dream, her precious gem,
Her heir, as her world revolved,
In keeping It safe, her life goal,
Expecting only gratitude, if not care,
It, though, enacted Its role,
Too perfect, enough to scare,
Its onlookers, Its siblings,
Driven into hiding, as It evolved,
Playing with her feelings,
With her patience, as she dissolved.
Too late, too powerful, It was now,
Ashamed she was, of her mistaken choice,
Left with no other, forced to bow,
To Its greed, Its unbecoming voice,
Its selfishness, as It evolved,
Who she believed to be the protector of all.
At her naivety, It now laughed,
Her love misplaced, her distress full call,
No one to help, her children, all lost,
Under Its thumb, they, Its prey,
Incurable pain, It caused,
Her blue, green, gold, made grey,
For her children she bled,
All handicapped, for one.
Away with her trust, strength, It fled,
Left to fend for herself, damage done,
A secret though, It yet hadn’t realized,
That It survived, only as she let It be,
Still exists, in her hem, mesmerized,
Driven by neglect, still blind to see,
Its mother, capable of bringing It,
Still capable of Its destruction,
Doomed future, now awaits It,
Can It wake up from Its delusion?
