Mothers and daughters never truly know
What crop they will reap
From the amniotic seeds they sow.
Daughters may cry, but mothers weep
As the blood they bore begins to grow
And their relationship’s peace is found in sleep.
Just as trees extend a multi-branched bough
Mothers and daughters apart must creep.
As bread rises from molded dough
A mother’s love must be both shallow and deep
While sloughing off a daughter’s insulting flow.
And yet in my motherly breast they seep.
In my heart I hold you dear--no truer love.
I only pray that me, in your heart, you keep.
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