Mother Don't Leave Me

Mother don’t leave me, raise me like one of your garden beds.
Mother don’t leave me, teach me everything you know about soil, about nature.
Mother don’t leave me, show me how to navigate the forest after a storm.
Mother don’t leave me, ask me to till the ground and plant the foxglove.
Mother don’t leave me, work me until I cry about the blisters and then mend them. 
Mother don’t leave me, guide me into the wilderness and we will gather wild berries.
Mother don’t leave me, tell me the stories of my ancestors as we water the hydrangea.
Mother don’t leave me, give me your worries and I will cast them aside in the compost.
Mother don’t leave me, carry me when I am wounded, and kiss my tears aside. 
Mother don’t leave me, hold me until you are wilted and brittle and then I will hold you.
Mother don’t leave me, nurture me as you would a late blooming flower, as you would yourself.
Mother don’t leave me, take me, all of the best parts, and keep them for your inner child.
Mother don’t leave me, become me so you may learn to be a child, to even be happy.
Mother don’t leave me, build me into your roots and break from the learned cycle of disease.
Mother don’t leave me, love me as your mother should have loved you.
Mother don’t leave me, raise me like one of your garden beds.