The Aproned Warrior

by Anita Mondragon

The most violent of battles that are ever fought…

Do you know who fights them and when?

In history books, you will find them not,

For they are fought by the mothers of men.

Not with tanks, guns or swords, like in wars of today;

But down on their knees, as they kneel to pray!

These battles don’t last for mere days or months,

But they turn into years.

And their weapons of war, are calloused knees,

Praise, and faith and tears.

Each night, with their voice raised up in plea,

They pray for their child’s eternity.

They silently raise their prayers to God,

And ask Him to lead where their children trod.

And though exhausted, they press on…

They refuse to give up, or yield;

But they bring each child before the Throne of God,

There…on that battlefield.

In their aprons, and house coats, and Clorox stained T’s,

They don’t look like soldiers to you and me.

But that old devil knows, he’s in for a fight

When a mother slides to her knees each night,

And calls out the names of her children dear

To the Father above, who bends to hear.

For the fiercest wars fought,

Are fought on bended knee,

As a mother prays for her children’s victory!

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