Her Bended Knee

Once a mother

always is

they bend their knees

to raise our kids

they laugh for our broken

as if never have cried, for our burden they soothe

as if our souls had died

they coddle our demons on the top of their heads

—colored gray with grief

fake smiles

and gritted teeth

a generation held together

by tiny pieces of silver string

those grayish-white pieces of hair

prophesy of her bended knees

their bodies ache

due our trials and needs

our depression states

our miscarried dreams

all have a home on the top of mother’s head

our souls they touch

our bull they fed

can’t wash the stench

of our almost dead

but they straighten their backs

and lift their chin

throw on their head

our hopes and sins

and at night

when we run the streets

and sleep in sheets

they bend their knee

and cry to sleep

and then wake up

all smiles and grace

let us never see tears run down their face

instead, see your life on your mother’s head

the next time you see those

grayish-whites

just know that someone prays for you at night

no tears be seen

all frowns be gone

just bended knees

and prayer songs