The mother of all emotions

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Before you think you can put a finger on love,
Think of the time when you saw the size of the butter stick in your mother’s pie.
Or when you became a father for the first time.
Think of those people who fix their broken cars on the side of roads in heavy rain,
Or those who seem lost while staring out of cars and buses.

Think of the children who forgive their mothers for their distractedness and just loved them anyway.   
Think of a mother’s visible force that shapes our destiny, 
Whose betrayal is more violent than the worst jihad. 
Think of those who have journeyed from somewhere to now stand and stare at you in disgust at the library. 
Or those you wish were in an artificial coma because they lost their limbs in war. 
Think of that couple who has to bury the unbearable with their dead baby. 
Or of the home you just passed by, with an old mother in bed all by herself, 
Longing for company and seeking it in her past. 

Think of those people who eat from their lunch boxes on gas station benches in lunch hours, 
Hanging onto their phones and occasionally looking up for a little head nod that might come their way. 
Or their friends who lie down and catch a wink in the hot grass grasping onto imperceptible waves from strangers. 

Think of those who find out that a small infection could kill only when it ended their mother’s life. 
Or whose mothers find them buried under 6 feet of snow few days after their stupid ski adventure trip. 
Think of those women who are brave enough to crack a smile even when they never knew their mothers, 
Or men who continue living this uncertainty called life by building a fire of courage within them. 

Think about how all your life, you will work just hard enough to make your mother proud, 
Yet, look up to see if the whole world has taken notice, 
Only to realize she had always been cheering. 
Think of those who failed to climb the Everest even while the highest peak of exhilaration was within their hearts. 
Or those who now seek peace and fulfillment in the mundane because the length of their lives has taught them better. 

Think of a friend who at 45 has planted her womb into another woman who will make her a mother. 
Or your teenage self when you wanted to distance yourself from your mother, 
Only to now appreciate her nagging madness. 
Think of the 16 year old girl who is going through confirmation in her Catholic church, 
So you can tell her these lessons are just seeds, kill them or let them blossom into the person you will be. 

Now think of your mother, even if you lost her in your crib, 
Only if you had her in your life, wouldn’t all these emotions make perfect sense?

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