It starts with
a flitting glance
at the mother
A prolonged look at the daughter
a shake of the head
an audible sigh
undisguised murmurings
then a comment
"bad mother"
They all crucify mother
who remains calm
in the midst of the
storm of child rearing
whose hands strike gently
with love
and healing
whose eyes shine with
warmth
whose lips utter acceptance
in full glare of daylight
and offer up prayers
at night
Nobody does it better
than mother
but still
they misunderstand.
©benny
B