MOTHERING MOTHERS

They are mothering mothers Who without conscience curse The intriguing bloods that tend to Flow into the wineskin of a foresight For a greater tomorrow on this arid land!

They are mothering mothers Who, after buying our rights With a token, take for granted Our long suffering and pride To the brimming of their purse.

They are mothering mothers Who, in the name of the most sacred, Sack our loyalty for their worship, Desecrate and exploit the Zionists, And shame the jihadists to a folly.

They are mothering mothers Who chalk to cheering chair Just to share the sheer naivety Of the incubating soldiers of schools of thought, Neglecting the approaching tomorrow. They are mothering mothers That fail to nurture to growth The hopes of the living dead, The pains of the wick whose Grail light groans to extinction.

They are mothering mothers Who never see hope in a hewn Tree but damnation and forgotten dreams. A world full of these mothering mothers Has doom loom on its hope.