ann kiemel

washed against a hot, weary sky
of burdens and struggles.
always hoping...pleading
that somehow we can grab onto a
root of a miracle and hang on for
our lives.

i'm talking about single mothers everywhere.
and i mean...walking the sidewalks, searching
for a job ; to standing all day at subway, making
sandwiches usually without kind words from the
people streaming in. praying...every single day,
that Jesus will somehow make a way for us one
more month.

mothers are the souls of children who hover close.
nothing is impossible with a worn-weary mother.
you get that?!!!! mountains can be levelled by
one look from a single mother. we are fierce.
inpenetrable . will fight all the lions and wild
cats if need be to make it. no...to make sure
our children get a fair shot at life.

i can smell a
single mother a mile away..
the way i hear them walking.
shuffeling along. damp hair from
who knows. yes, put me in a walmart
or a bus stop or someone cooking at the atlanta
airport. every hair on my neck stands up.

yes, waiting for the light...any piece of
promise that will keep them and their children
surviving another day. moon, pull in close..right
where we can see you slide across the horizon.
big, wide moon. the way we call out to each other
to keep singing and praying and holding on to the
root of dirt. still, against all odds, yeah for single
mothers.