A Mother in the Garden of EdenThe YHMH / Womb of the System / ANAXAYAMAThere is a place, somewhere close,Bound in place by love-stained ropes.This paradise is small, her boundaries invisible.Foundation solid, she is unbreakable, indivisible.It is One, it is All, and her own individualHer sacrifice greater than God himself,For the abundance of life to dwell.She has a spirit, a soul, a body complete and whole;Her love, so infinite, fills the deepest of holes.Kisses does she blow on a cool autumn breeze,Her skin she caresses on a warm sandy beach.She works to the core to feed the rich and the poor,Her toes leave exhaustion to keep us from harm.Her children, toddlers, happy resting in bed,Blissfully unaware her pillow has yet lain her head.She is sore and tired, but:Never give up, she says.For there are bills to pay, words to say,And tomorrow is that planned birthday.A mother is a treasure far greater than gold,An angel from heaven for you to hug and to hold.Never showing sadness, through strife she strides;Her looks show love, only smiles unfold.She is taken for granted, but loved deeply so;The paradise sees her, acknowledging her worth and her toll.Roses blossom fragrant with the appreciation she shows,And her love is in the sighs she does blow.Gems on her body your mother does wear,Not in selfish disguise, but to show her twinkle is there.We appreciate the Father, the Creator, we're told;We look to the sky and pray in the night,An occasional conversation we hold.Like a toddler, we do not understand whyWe yearn for a woman, but look to a man.A single mother, two of her own,Lost in a world where doubt is prone.She works without grimace, her fingers are bone;A smile with a hug to the child unknown.Hiding her pain and struggles to give her young ones a home,The Garden, watching close, reciprocates her loveShowing she hears her prayers, understanding the push and the shove.Her words spoken softly, too softly to hear,Even by the hardest-trained ear.Darling, she states. My daughter, she signs.Here is a gladiola, please do not cry.Delight in the perfumes from my wisteria vines.Look, my sweet, above your head:A lemony magnolia to calm your stead.Please pick a carnation, pink and white;It blooms for you to relieve your strife.There is more for you, to show you are blessed:A drop of honeysuckle to warm your chest.In the bright bliss of tomorrow, I will revealGreat pastels of violet, yellows, and hues of blue,To prove the glory bestowed on you.I promise you tomorrow, and the day after that,To show you I care and see your kind, beautiful acts.You see, I am a mother, just like you,And relate to what you are going through.I see no greater sacrifice than that of mother to child;Yours has been great, yet like mine, all worthwhile.I ask you to accept these gifts, for you allow meTo deliver to all who deserve.As alone you are not, your love will preserve.(She laughs at her babble.)One more thing. Listen closely, my sweet.A soft breeze unfolds, her words begin to take hold:Rest your weary head, and close your heavy eyes.Dream fields where you can fly.Awake from slumber, a new dawn waits for you.And tomorrow, if you are still feeling beaten,Take a look around, my dear child...You're in the Garden of Eden.https://zenodo.org/records/18942850https://philpapers.org/rec/AHNTAC
