TO BE FATHERED BY A MOTHER

I watched my mum be it all,
Dad, mum, teacher, help, friend, enemy and first love,
I remember wondering how she never got exhausted,
She always had this ever radiant smile and a bubble of joy bouncing within her,
I watched my mum fight for us,
She held us when we had to toss out the dirt,
Wiping away the debris and filling us up with new stuff,
Held up our chins when she needed it to settle,
Gliding her hands down our backs just to be sure,
She would graze our temple with her lips at night; for making it to the day\’s finish line,
Reminding us to reflect and do better on the front at dawn,
Never failing to smack us real bad for our lack of gratitude.

I watched my mum,
Never really understanding how she coped without a him,
Till I finally saw her,
Saw beyond those plastered grin of plastic veneers,
Saw within the bubbles I called joy bouncing within her,
I saw her breakdown night after night from exhaustion,
Just like the mastered art of a ritual,
At the blackening of the clouds,
Siting with her knees to her chest,
Her arms shook from holding up three boys,
Lips quivered from the groans in her spirit,
And feet red, swollen; her toes, barren,
All from wearing his shoes,
Walking three lives in his steps.

For the love of all things pure I still couldn\’t understand it,
Her ability to be all of it,
And like that she arouse,
Shook off the tears,
Cracked up her knuckles,
Applying ointments and herbs the sores she physically wore,
Ignoring the ever growing ulcer in her heart,
Laying in bed awaiting the new dawn,
Where she would raise again to stay fighting,
In my father\’s shoes.