To the Mothers in the War Zones

Image: Levi Clancy. Unsplash

The sounds of thunder
does not pierce anymore
her muted eardrums
red flashes of shrapnel
does not scare her anymore
with death and the deads
unaware she is
alive or dead
unaware she is
of her broken ribs
it never pained
she stands in the rubbles
of a kitchen
once belonged to her
in the haze
of dust and cordite
alone in search
she moves out
for a handful of grain
for her children
weary and hungry
she won’t stop
she walks and she walks
nook and cranny
with her broken ribs
for a handful of grain
red flashes of thunder
suffocating despair
cannot defeat her
her soul
indomitable she is
she is the power
living to love
living to sacrifice
she can’t die
and she knows
she won’t
for she is the Mother