Our Mothers

Oceans below and stars above
The mothers of creation
Cradle us gently with their love
Protective of their station

But like all children, we rebel
Persistent longing festers
We feel constricted in our cell
Constrained by our ancestors

What shall it be? Our mothers know
That we’ll outgrow our breeches
And when it’s time to let us go
They’ll give the usual speeches

And then watch proudly, from afar
They can’t help but adore
Each time we reach a distant star
Or walk an alien shore