A Mother' Day Poem
From the first moment of life,
your mother places her finger on your tiny hand as you squeezed it.
Weeks later, as you began to fall asleep,
she held your hand as you also squeezed her fingers too.
Months later she held your hand as you walked across the street,
and you squeezed her in return.
Years later, she holds your hand in your sadness,
because you failed at something in life.
You squeezed her hand as tears ran down your cheeks.
As an adult, your mother places her hand on your shoulders
as you crouch in pain due to a traumatic event.
You reach up and squeeze her hand and feel comforted.
Later in your life, you stand next to her bad as she nears death.
She reaches over and grasps your hand in love,
and you give her one last squeeze.
- Pastor Juan