Mother Mary, holding on to her son,
Learning that grief is just
Love lapsing a life of a loved one, 
And that bond between mother and son,
It ignites a flammable flame,
How grief will burn and subside
On the periphery, while love
Will remain occupied at the center,
How the child will never cease,
To be a child, and a mother
Will never stop being a mother,
And their bond, the memory
Of the umbilical cord, and the placenta,
Those organs that were disposed
Of at maturity, when the heart
Becomes a mercenary, going its own way.
And you look at this beautiful sculpture,
Only to witness a woman’s lap,
Cradling the ageless child.

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