It is impossible to escape acknowledging the vessel from which our form is gathered, that vessel we call mother.

Male and female alike a vessel is from which we came; we are homeless and we are leaders, still a vessel is from which we came.  They exist all around us, these life giving forms of all languages, colors, sizes, shapes; they are unique.  How compelling and intriguing.  They dance, serve, work, celebrate, smoke, create, seduce, exhaust, refresh, comfort, sacrifice, hate, protect, love, exact retribution, nurture, hear, listen, ignore, unite, shame, intuit, pray, condemn, heal , destroy, feed, wash, cloth, strip, hit, hug and sigh and find ways of being that I cannot possibly know fully…To say they “live” still falls short of all they are and do.  And everyone of them is loved; not one of them is forsaken.

They are mother, past, present and future. Because of mother, we are a gift of existence.  From them, that vessel our pulse was put into place preceded by untold types of unions bound in sweat and muscle; unions between man and women sometimes welcome sometime not.  These unions are accompanied by an expanse of emotions that may have included fear, love, hate, confusion, and on, and on, and on.  They are mother.   They are the topic infinite discussions, tears and joys, which cause us to share or hide from friends, family, traveling companions our experiences with the vessel we call mother.   She has been, is and will always be a vessel from which we find at least in part our identity… Whether we like it or not, she is mother.  Praise her or profane her, she is mother.  For some she is a vessel firm, steadfast and reliable, and for others fragile, disloyal and deceptive, and for generations past and future some variation and culmination of the very best and very worst of the entire human race.  Still the vessel, a gift of existence.

How envious I am at times to know you, who has the power to bear life in a way I can only allow my imagination the vague opportunity to grasp.  If I am honest, I know that for whatever reason, you were chosen to have the ability to give life, because you still, with all the challenges you face, would do it so much better than men, myself included, who with all our “power” are recklessly driven many times over to destroy life or put you in a place to compromise your own.  Oh, to imagine if we could match in our lives and politics whatever drives you to give life.

You are mother… an invaluable vessel of infinite variation.  On this one day, we, I acknowledge you, dead, alive or to be, a gift of existence.