Praying Mothers

Who knew you could measure this love? 
The soul that never stopped praying.
It wears the weight of ten thousand meals made with grace 
And feels like a wet sponge on feverish skin 

Alive we feel truly lived in love
Shall I tell you all more about the praying mother
For her son to grow responsible, strong and wise 
The hands that cared when diseases came with rush
For her son to be merciful, caring and without vice

Ever crushing insanity that enveloped the brain 
With trillion neurons firing and blabbering about pain 
Ever so tiny ever so little as brief
In face of death, welcoming a life after grief 

Little sleep heavy chores multiple menus 
Who can do it all without flinching for a second? 
Still be she thinking of family during her leisure hours
Who can be this less yet so full of essence?

Mothers,
Who prays strong, breathes love and lives their best for others,  endlessly   

~ @Saint