A Mother's Prayer

Unsouled cells scream
Dreams of simple survival
As a mother whispers, “Thy will be done.”
Awash in love, entombed in peace,
Growing in a mother’s grace
This fatherless child
Vacantly surveys the
Toxic wasteland and
Floats, “Why?”

“Not?”

Knots
Strangle the soul yet unsold –
Hushing screams that
Echo in hallowed halls
As the fallen tree that makes no sound.
In the fullness of time,
Unsold cells find purchase –
Just another tool of purpose.

Sold cells dreamlessly sleep,
Without wakeful hope.
The path chosen is railed.