Oh Mother, Oh Mother! Cries Her Soul

My mother was young and well-read, She could choose fancy, she chose to tend She chose to water the seeds of struggle, She abandoned me in cradle, my childhood smuggled

She had your freedom, grabbed war by its throat, She fought battles after battles, her heart did not vote

For if she had heard my cries, She could forgive not you, not me, despite all tries

She saw my face in every child’s play and cry, ‘Haunting’ should stop, was all she tried

This war, this battle, will turn to ashes, All that us hoard, will pass in flashes

There is no glory, in a glorious victory It is, It has, Always been trickery

You fight for blood and diamonds alone, You shall never be pardoned for turning her in a stone

My memoirs of joy and sadness have left, Now she is back and her scares bereft

Oh Mother, My Mother! You have fought your fears, Now come home to me, let me face my tears!

Oh Mother, Oh Mother! Cries her soul, Weeps and talks, as she rolls.