Dear Mother

• Victoria Hung, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2011

Dear mother, what we once called her
Our majestic ancient day
Of everlasting life she bore,
In glorious sunshine rays.

She provided for our every need,
Her flesh was our secure,
Yet trust we did in lives so brief
To treat her like manure.

Plundering in her battle wounds
To mother’s flaws we kill
The flesh of what was once her womb
Now bare from human bills

A billions years all turned to dust
Her beauty derived in smoke
A natural heaven now left to rust
For our secret love she choked

Her breathing heart now pounding,
Drains blood of watered soil
Our lives no longer caressed by she
But dreams left out to boil

Our sun arise in agony,
The sky cries flames of red
The lights of what once reigned by stars
Now taken by the dead

Yet not through a whisper does she plea,
No more for mercy’s sake,
And by our chains she walks to death…
..Farewelled by our mistakes.

Dear mother, what we once called her,
Our majestic ancient day,
Little more than any speck or dust..
A kingdom to decay.