the son that mother has carried on her arms <br />has become a man <br />grown up by her milk and lullabies <br />she looks up to him <br />when he marries and brings her <br />grandsons to make her remember <br />how babies become boys <br />how her arms have become cradles <br /> <br />the man has become a soldier <br />and he goes to war by mandate <br />he fights the wars of his state as his own <br />his mind circles on mama, wife, children and friends <br />and patriotism to his country <br />his valor his word of honor <br />his choppy cell phone calls <br />marred by the heavy rain <br />and howling sounds of dogs <br />and thunderous sounds of explosions <br />choppy are his words <br />like what he is feeling <br />in the deep heart of the forest <br />where the war is being raged <br /> <br />meanwhile, in the office of these <br />state leaders, these politicians <br />they make the strategies <br />on a bottle of wine and slice of steak <br />sometimes laughter and some jokes <br />in the comfort of his wife and children and friends <br />in the warmth of his home <br />and in his garden where the flowers bloom <br />where the sunshine is warms his <br />face smooth, untouched by the hands <br />of the heavy rain in the forest<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mother-and-son/
