To the mothers of the shadow

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.


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