(For International Mother's Day)

 

I do not praise you, Mother, as if you were an untouched statue,

nor as a silent sacrifice that only gives and remains silent.

I sing of you as a deep root,

as a first school

 

You are the one who taught without praise,

often without even knowing it —

with a straight back lifting weights invisibly,

with the hand pointing to the stars

but also the earth, so that we don't forget where we come from.

 

Mother, it's not just your belly that made you a mother.

It's the patience that weaved your every word into a life lesson,

as a wall of love against a system that wanted you as a buyer,

but you resisted him by becoming a creator.

 

Why motherhood is the most revolutionary act:

to give life when you are taught to consume,

to keep the fire burning when you are extinguished by insecurity,

to say "here I am" when everything around you only wants an image.

 

Today, I crown every mother,

I remember not only the one who gave birth,

but the one who raised a soul with truth.

I kiss her hands that held tightly,

and I sing to her together:

 

"Glory to you, mother of the world,

that you never became a product,

but a nurturer, a teacher, a hug and a knife

that you cut off what was choking us.

You are the beginning.

And only you remember that the end

it's not fashion or window dressing,

but a child who learned to say "I want"

without asking permission."

 

Happy birthday to every mother,

and to every woman who carries within her the essence of motherhood:

the care, the caress, the words, the love.

 

Analysis of the poem "Hymn to Motherhood": The ancient signs in the modern maternal voice

Dimitris Simeonidis JP

After reading Julian's Hymn to the Mother of the Gods, I wanted to write this poem about Motherhood, dedicated to today's International Mother's Day. It is not a conventional hymn of praise. It does not praise the mother as an untouched statue or as a silent sacrifice. On the contrary, it presents her as a living root, as a first school, as a creator who resists a system that wanted her as a simple buyer. This modern writing, however, bears deep traces of antiquity – both in the structure of the hymn and in the philosophical perception of motherhood. The poem does not imitate antiquity, but converses with it, drawing from the ancient archetypes of the mother as a divine principle, as a teacher and as a revolutionary.

The first sign of antiquity is the hymn structure itself. The title “Hymn to Motherhood” refers directly to ancient hymns, which were liturgical texts, oral invocations to deities. In the ancient Greek tradition, hymns were written for Demeter, mother Earth, for Rhea and other maternal deities. I transfer this sacredness to the human mother. The invocation “I do not praise you, Mother, as if you were an untouched statue” deconstructs classical idealization, but at the same time borrows the rhetoric of the ancient hymn.

A second, deeper sign is found in the conception of motherhood not only as physical birth but as spiritual creation: “Mother, it is not only the womb that made you a mother. / It is the patience that wove every word of yours into a lesson of life.” In ancient Greek thought, motherhood had a dual nature. On the one hand, there was biological birth, which was honored through deities such as Eileithyia (the patroness of childbirth). On the other hand, there was the idea of ​​the mother as the first educator. In ancient Athens, the mother was responsible for the first years of upbringing, for the transmission of language, basic morals and myths. The phrase “she wove every word of yours into a lesson of life” recalls the ancient art of weaving, which was directly linked to women’s work and maternal care, as in the figure of Penelope who weaves and unweaves, teaching patience and faith.

The third ancient sign is the figure of the mother lifting weights and simultaneously pointing to the stars and the earth: “with her back straight, lifting weights invisibly, / with her hand pointing to the stars / but also to the earth, so that we do not forget where we come from.” This double movement – ​​towards the sky and towards the earth – recalls the role of the ancient Mother Earth (Gaia) and Demeter, who connected the upper world (the sky, the gods) with the lower world (the earth, vegetation, mortal life). In ancient cosmology, the earth was the center, the womb of everything. The mother pointing to the stars recalls the ancient notion that mothers were the first to speak to children about the gods and the sky, while at the same time keeping them grounded. The "straight back", moreover, was a symbol of dignity and freedom in ancient times - free women walked straight, in contrast to slaves who were often depicted hunched over.

The fourth sign is the saying that “motherhood is the most revolutionary act.” In ancient times, motherhood already had revolutionary dimensions. Demeter, when her daughter Persephone was taken from her, stopped all vegetation and forced Zeus to negotiate. She was not a passive goddess; she was a mother who set the world on fire to get her child back. Alcmene, the mother of Heracles, gave birth to a hero who would torment monsters and turn things around. Theseus’ mother, Aethra, raised him in secret and sent him to lift the rock and claim paternity and power. these ancient revolutions in everyday life: “to give life when they teach you to consume, / to keep the fire burning when they extinguish you in insecurity, / to say “here I am” when everything around you only wants an image.” The mother becomes a fire-bearer, the one who maintains the flame of life and dignity – like the ancient priestesses who guarded the unquenchable fire in Hestia or in the sanctuary of Athena.

Fifth and most important sign: the doxology that is introduced into the poem: “Glory to you, mother of the world.” This phrase is structured like ancient invocations to deities, such as the invocation “Glory to you” that is already found in Orphic hymns. The mother here is called “mother of the world” – a title that in antiquity belonged to Gaia, Rhea, but also to Cybele, the great mother of the gods. “who never became a product.” Here lies the transcendence of ancient tradition. The ancient mother was worshipped, but often the worship also included exchanges, sacrifices, offerings – a kind of early “transaction.” Here I am referring to a motherhood that is absolutely outside of any commercialization, outside of fashion, showcase and the system that turns everything into an object.

Finally, the last stanza – “but a child who learned to say “I want” / without asking permission” – recalls one of the deepest elements of ancient motherhood: the education in autonomy and courage (virtue). In ancient Sparta, mothers said goodbye to their sons who went to war by saying “with the shield or on the shield”, that is, winner or dead, but not deserter. They did not ask anyone for permission for their lives. In ancient Athens, Themistocles’ mother is said to have encouraged him in his ambition. The child who learns to say “I want” without asking permission is the child who grew up in a maternal presence that was not oppressive but liberating. This is exactly what the great maternal figures of antiquity did: they did not surrender to fear, but transmitted courage.

The Hymn to Motherhood is a poem that bears visible and invisible signs of antiquity. From the structure of the ancient hymn, to the image of the mother as a bridge between heaven and earth, as a teacher, as a revolutionary in the style of Demeter, as a guardian of fire and as an educator of freedom. And yet, the poem remains deeply contemporary, because it adds the struggle against consumerism and the trap of the image. I do not copy antiquity. On the contrary, I take the ancient instrument – ​​the hymn – and retune it to a contemporary tone: that motherhood is resistance, that knowledge and care are the real gift, and that the only genuine glory for a mother is never to become a product. In this coupling of ancient archetype and modern reflection, the poem constitutes a hymn not only to the mother, but to dignity itself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

photo widephish, https://pixabay.com