On the occasion of Mother's Day, I wish mothers under X are not forgotten and I offer them this poem.
Mothers of the Shadow
What do you know about them, these mothers who have been zapped
Marks of a cruel X, hated and rejected
We never see them, and yet they exist
Ferré said the same, but for the anarchists.
Not often adults, guilty of having loved
It is the pressure that always makes them abdicate.
Religion accuses of the right to be alive
These young mother, they are like an insult
To the narrow morality of the too well-thinking people
Who know better than they, what must to be the model.
All their lives, they suffer in silence
From a resounding void of the cry of absence
They are nonexistent and yet they are there
Ashamed and repentant, they die of anonymity.
The child does the mother, but who could it be
When after the birth, there is no child.
All the love to give, is there in the depths of themselves
They must hide it, or be rebellious.
They live in the shadow of an unknown branch
That was deemed too dark to be supported.
Let these mothers rise, and in the ultimate gesture
Free and proud love, let them give back their roots
To these grafts of love that we put in the greenhouses
From adoption relief: they had a mother
In the name of what tell me, a measure and two weights?
Being a mother is so beautiful! But not for these women?
Never will they be able to mourn deep
Of them that which is not dead, and never fall asleep
It is a backdrop, preventing them from living
Who darkens the name, with a beautiful love all round,
That they will have stolen, taking advantage of their fear
In the name of the great sin of cutting the flowers.
You keep a kitten, so as not to upset
In her maternity, the sweet cat
But for the young mother, not the slightest pity!
It's worth less than a clerk, in the eyes of people who are too proud.