No one stole the moon from us
by force. Instead, they bade us sleep;
in that little death our memory
faded, and our Mother’s song
(not the sing-song lullabies
or product placing jingle-jangle
from an artificial moonlight
like an android babysitter,
but the rhythm of our organs,
constant hum of blood in veins,
synchronized with breath and being)
was lost. And seeking to remember,
in a simple act of faith,
won’t erase the hurt and sadness
of our Mother, so long gone.
Why should she accept with open
arms children that spurned her love?
Why would she be wrong to need
a sacrifice from us to prove
that we were really looking, this time,
with our ears ready to hear
the song she taught us, now forgotten?
Where have we been all these years?
09 MAY 2005