Pull out chairs for old mothers,

Who have raised their boys to men.

And for mothers of the future to show them the 

Value of being women.
Smile at our grandfathers,

Who watch life behind rheumy eyes.

And misunderstood young men,

Who cry at simple beauty because of buried pain.
Lead blind babies across the street.

Take them to parks of green grass.

Introduce them to our Mother.

Cry in the dust of her grounded bone.
Fear not passage of time, 

Observing the levels of life — Unanimated 


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