In honor of Mother’s day, I’m taking a break from talking about writing, or my books, or anything related to my aspiring career. This post hails all the mothers that purposely or accidentally have fallen into my lair. I believe all mothers who have accepted the challenge of motherhood (some do not), fall under the umbrella of visionary—foretelling events to their husbands, children and communities.
By nature, mothers are nurturers imparting into the lives of many. They believe in chastising wrong, settling disputes and misunderstanding, they’ll laugh with, gave birth to you (whether physically or spiritually), and is a child’s greatest hero. A mother organizes her home, husband and children, and then goes out and organizes the world. She is a gift to her country, filled with
love or hate, whichever one someone chooses to bring out in her—heaven forbid that the hate pours, heaven help the one it pours out on.
I do not consider myself a poet; however, on this week before Mother’s Day (American Style), I had the nerves to beat the dust off an old poem; I use the word poem very loosely. I tried to spruce it up a bit, don’t know if it helped. You know writers, they’ll try about anything. Well here it goes. Don’t split your brain laughing.
Her Soul Runs Deep
She’s thinking and planning for a multitude of needs,
Her soul runs deep, yet most don’t understand
A mother’s heart, whether broken or healed
Fails not to conduct her unselfish plan.
Whether pain or pleasure, through highs and lows,
Her soul runs deep, from the kitchen, to the bedroom, to the boardroom table
Taking on the nasty scuzzy challenges
Anchoring many upon her back until their wings were stable.
Her soul runs deep, with thoughts staying up at night, waiting for dawn, reminiscing battles won.
Her soul runs deep.
I hope you liked at least part of this tribute. Happy Mother’s Day!