Where mothers climb a path alone.
Young, old, and weary, short and tall,
They come to make a private call.
Refrain:
“Please tell me, Child, what is your name?
Is it Stephanie, or maybe Shane?
I wish I knew, it’s hard to pray--
I’ll come back soon another day.”
They come and stand before the place
That marks an unknown form and face.
It’s not so big, or grand and tall,
Yet casts a shadow deep on all.
(Refrain)
Some lay a rose or daisy there,
But most come empty-handed, bare.
Some stand with knees and head unbent,
But most cannot their tears prevent.
The mothers come all day, all night.
The path is mud, there is no light.
They see no sun, it’s always rain,
Nothing seems to help the pain.
V
“I was too young,” you hear some say.
“My boyfriend made me get that way.”
“I was confused!” “I was afraid!”
“No one came to give me aid.”
VI
The others come without a word.
Excuses here all go unheard.
They stay until they hear a cry
That could be just the river’s sigh.
VII
The river’s cold and wide and deep.
It’s full of those that never sleep.
They’re reaching for a certain hand,
The same that cast them from this land.
VIII
Close by the river stands the stone.
Nothing on it yet has grown.
No moss, no ivy trailing here,
No bluebirds flying through the air.
IX
How can they come back here again?
The time passed by--how long it’s been!
Close by the river stands the stone
Where mothers climb a path alone.
X
I wonder if you know me now.
I wrote this song, I don’t know how.
I have no hand, I have no voice.
I lost them by my mother’s choice.
XI
O Sister, Brother, are you there?
O Grandma, Uncle, did you care?
I’m waiting here...inside the stone
That grew from the first child unknown.
