The ancient mother weeps,

Her children are in pain,

From the roots of the family tree,

The blood runs down again.

Deep within the womb of earth,

The veins of quartz do bleed,

Bringing down the tears of sap,

Bringing mother to her knees.

The ancient one has seen before the

Outcome of this strife,

In pain she sprouts a sapling,

Begins with each new life.

A tangled root beneath the soil,

A ball of life confused,

Each generation of this tree,

To the one before is fused.

Transplant a little one,

Give her room to grow,

Remove her just so slightly.

From the others in her row.

Suddenly new roots will form.

To feed the mother dear,

Taken from a lineage of

Pain, sorrow, fear.

Having learned just enough,

Awakened with new sight,

Perhaps this little tree will help to

Bring the others light.

With nurturing and growth.

To other roots she’ll spread,

Gentle to untangle,

Even those who play dead.

Stop the blood flow from the top,

Let the love pour down,

Remove all thought of pain, hurt, fear,

Bid mother gather round.

Because forever they will share.

The ancient mother’s love,

Those who sought to sleep below

And those who woke above.