Motherhood In Continuum
Like a mother’s patience
Red wagon wheels in the snow
Awaiting warmer interval
Knows time will invite
Surroundings to relax
Unlock its frozen shackles
Freeing movement again
How easily some fault these cyclic forces
Nature merely managing chronology
Creating allowance
Choice
Necessity
Faith
Trust
Awe
Like circular motion that is endless
Maternal existence in perpetuity accepts no end
You
Me
Wagon wheels
Water
Rocks
Are merely its flux
Control is not ours
Like our blood flow
Nature's momentum
Especially that of a mother’s love
Will be where it needs to be
Do what it needs to do
In this ever-changing infinity
That we children are but students of
Unfortunately
Humankind invented the invisible prison
"We are independent"
Without a mother’s nurturing
Such becomes a delusional security blanket
An anomaly only servile ignorance
Adopts
Clings to
And finally
Succumbs to
A woman’s maternal instinct
Need not bear children
But live her love unto all
For without such attentiveness
Clouded reality
Ignores spring thaws
When frozen wagon wheels
Embrace liberation and await another round of innocence
Knowing the next iteration of temporary confinement
Is but another stop at life’s weigh station
Pauses to further reflect and progress
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Love ya!
Jane
But the image struck me! I don't know whether it was my father who always had a garage or shed to put his newest car in, or it was my mother, who insisted that as soon as we were through playing with anything, inside the house or outside the house, that we put it away, immediately. So that house and the yard was always presentable to friends, family and neighbors. We were poor enough to value our toys and take care of them.
But there were always homes where the yards were littered with cast-off toys. They were an eyesore and evidence of bad parenting leading to bad children who didn't value their toys at all.
The radio flyer wagon that my brother and I got when we were, perhaps, three or four, was always put away in the garage or shed and never left out in the snow or rain. Wagons that were left out like that one in the picture, generally rusted out by spring. To go on the junk pile of mistreated toys. Our wagon went on to be used 16 years later by our younger twin brothers. And, if it was still around today, would be worth more than it ever was during our years having great fun with it.
Ron