A mother is like a mountain spring that feeds the tree
to its roots,
but a woman who becomes the mother of the child born of another woman is
as the water evaporates to become cloud and
travel long distances to feed a tree in the desert.
(from the Talmud
And the children are the answers that life gives to us all.
They are the essence of your smile.
are blood and flesh of your flesh
but not your blood and your flesh.
They are the sons and daughters of hungry that life has of itself.
Through you arrive, but not from you.
And though they are with you, do not belong there.
entrusted all your love but not your thoughts:
They have their own thoughts.
can offer refuge to their bodies but not their souls:
they live in the house of tomorrow, there will not be allowed to visit even in your dreams.
You groped to be like them, but not make them like you:
Life is a road that always moving forward and never stop at the past.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows have been shot forward.
Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
U.S.
We can be born by mistake,
can be born without love,
can be abandoned for fear
can be left for love, but surely become
"children" only when
a new mom and new dad
shake us to their hearts.
Our life started by chance, you drag
our lives, lives like a flower that flourishes
even in the desert or on a rock
without anyone care for him,
without anyone noticing him.
Our life unfolds
only when the hand of our mother we
dry the tears that flows through the cheek
that no one has ever caressed,
when the father tells a story
that our ears have never heard
.
The arid desert is transformed into a garden full of flowers
,
our joy when we cry
explodes the word "Mom" when she
, with just a smile or a look,
tells us "I'll be there always in our hearts
but there will always be a small corner
for those who gave us life,
for those who, perhaps out of love he gave us,
for those who, perhaps, even today, has in his heart
a little corner for us.
October 2004
Rosy
India I met on a warm December night
I met her eyes off of two small homeless beggars
In seeking a corner of the sidewalk where to lie down
stand the smell of acrid smog Bombay
in India I met the rosy dawn
In singing the Muezzin who accompanied the sunrise
The melodious chirping of In tropical birds
taxi drivers who shined their Ambassador before the start of a day's work
I met India in a sunny morning
In the market of spices and colorful fabrics
In women silent and wrapped in their leste sari
incessant sound of car horns in a chaotic traffic
I met India in the sunny noon
In boys in uniform coming out of school
In the crowded bus with passengers on the roof
In the scent of spices that accompanied the meager meal of rice
I met India in a quiet afternoon
blue eyes of a white tiger in the national park
Nell'inquieto of stray dogs roam
In cows that walked the streets undisturbed
I met India in the rapid decline in tropical
night frenzy of shopping centers
In men d 'business case
tie and women dressed in Western
I met in India in its contradictions
corporate skyscrapers rise next to the slums of information that
In the villas and palaces of the rich to protect themselves misery with armed guards
I met her in India deeper misery
in the gaze of a leper who approached me to beg a few rupees
And in that desperate of a mother rummaging in the garbage to find something to eat
I met India in its most terrible exploitation
In children break stones and asphalted roads
And those who prostituted themselves at the edge of the slum in Bombay, India
I met her in bright colors of fuchsia bougainvillea
In
In the red mango
Nell ' ocher ground
I met India, the land that gave birth to my daughter
And in a warm December day greeted her forever.
I met India and now, with my daughter, is part of me.
Di Paola Verzura
Lord I thank you, because today
born my son away from me, but already in me and I
for him.
Teach the way home with the sun illuminating
,
because its path is shorter, sweeter
waiting.
He who is not afraid of the night, it
'
cold or hunger, which is soft
his pillow and hold the hands that touch of my caresses
talking.
Tell him I love him
though not yet know his name, his eyes
or the sound of his voice.
Lord please,
ago that one day my son can forgive
the dark, empty and waiting for my warm embrace
where you can relax.
Days Past Days in the past to think, to hope
days spent days in the past days suffer
But now you are here:
to give light to our eyes,
to give joy to our hearts to give
meaning to our lives.
Maybe one day you'll wonder why:
why me, why you
,
why we ...
One answer we will give you:
the need for love brought us together.
There were two women who had never known a
not remember the other you call Mother.
The first gave you life
the second taught you to live it. The first
you have created the need for love
the second was there to meet it.
One gave you nationality the other
name. A
the seed of growth
other purpose. A
emotions made you the other calmed your fears.
One saw your first
smile the other dried your tears. A
left you,
was all he could do.
The other prayed for a child
and the Lord has led you.
And now I ask the perennial question:
heredity or environment,
who they are shaped? From
neither.
Only two different loves.
(Mother Teresa of Calcutta)
