Someone sent me this anonymous poem.  It spoke to my heart and made me
weep.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

>A Mother's Prayer
>
> Neither weep nor mourn my children, the day you know I left.
>Don't shoulder burdens so great to bear,
>or pay an unearned debt.
> Don't look back on words you said,
>or things you didn't do.
>Don't look back with any regret,
>on the days I walked with you.
>
>These poor words I leave behind
>to comfort your sorrowing hearts and minds.
>I wish I said this long before,
>but somehow there never was time.
> I recall as clear as the dawn
>how great was my happiness the day you were born
>
>And the first time I held you close to my breast,
>Joy coursed through my being to each darkened recess,
>blurting out the memory of the cruel night's pursuit
>leaving, but wondering, that my labor bore fruit.
>
>For here from my work, a harvest was reaped
>and here in my arms a miracle sleeps.
>I remember the day you walked,
>yet mixed with my pride were qualms.
>Your first steps were toward a world of your own
>and out of your mother's arms.
>How easy then when you tripped and fell
>I could kiss away your tears,
>How easy then, when you were afraid
>I could chase away your fears.
>
>But the day soon came when you were hurt
>and there was nothing I could do
>to ease your pain or lighten your load
>but stand there crying too.
>Though you bravely tried to hide your tears because only children cry
>and I'd do the same, for I taught you that way,
>but inside Oh I died.
>
>>From your birth you seemed to grow so fast my heart lost beat.
> One second you clutched my hand lest you fall
> and the next moment you guide my grandchild's feet.
>I look back with only joy.
>The only remorse I feel are those times my words could not soothe
>and my hands no longer heal.
>
> Though I've gone from you this day
> I know your pain as well as if I walked with you again
>and it has turned my peace to hell.
>To see your heads bent in grief,
>your tears seem unconsoled.
>I long to call across this reef
>that I was repaid a thousand fold.
> The care worn hands and silver hair were such a small price to pay
> for the memories I now have to hold
>of the joy you gave me every day.
>
>Oh my children hear my cry.
>My greatest source of pride,
>was after you took a bitter fall
>I would watch you stand and rise.
>So I wait for this cruel time to end
>with such longing in my breast
>for you to stand up strong again.
>Until then I cannot rest.
>
>Once more I call across this reef.
>Understand these words you hear.
>Let your grief be gentle and brief
>and you will answer your mother's prayer.
>
>Neither weep or mourn my children,
>the day you know I left.
>Don't shoulder burdens so great to bear
>to pay an unearned debt.
> Don't look back on words you said
>or things you didn't do.
>Don't look back with any regrets,
>for I left indebted to you.


--
Jeanne Mitchell
Austin, TX
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle."
Plato