This Thing Called Wrestling: A Poem for Moms (Version B, no pictures)

A wrestling poem for our daughters and sons

In the arena of strength and might, 

Warriors clash with all their fight, 

Moms stand as guardians, guiding lights, 

Moms of wrestlers, hearts take flight. 

Singlets donned and shoes laced tight, 

Our children step forth into the wrestlers' fight. 

Warriors on the mat, relentless and bright,

Moms cheer from the stands, with all our might. 

Grueling practices and endless drills,

A wrestler’s determination never stills. 

With every takedown, pin, and win, 

Moms witness their passion, their spirit within. 

Wrestling rooms – sweat-soaked and tough,

Wrestlers learn resilience, discipline, and all is enough. 

Moms watch them grow, fierce and kind,

True embodiment of body and mind. 

Moms bandage their wounds, seen and not,

With tender care, moms tend a lot.

A mother’s love knows no bounds,

Supporting their dreams, hearing wrestling sounds.

In the face of setbacks and moments of doubt,

Moms offer solace, encouragement throughout.

For wrestling is more than a sport, it’s a dance,

A testament to grit, perseverance, and chance.

And when the final whistle blows,

Whether victory or defeat, nobody knows, 

Moms wrap their arms around their wrestler so dear,

Whispering words of love, wiping away any tear.

For being a mom of a wrestler, we are blessed, 

To witness their journey, to be their nest.

To see them soar to witness their might,

A warrior's mom, forever in their corner.

As their light. 

~ Tiffany L. Rehbein

for Ben and Bradley