A Pikin to a Mother

There are no songs

To describe her

The bravery to have

A child in a cultured society

The shame and indignity of it

The danger of my last breath

Each night was the torture

Of her existence

The love she found

In my tiny eyes

And the courage to fight

For a life she knew

Was worth something

Her prophetic gifting to see

My life play out in the

Grace of God and

The willingness to give up

Every last penny for my

Health and future

Ignoring the sound of her

Empty stomach

She is the rock on which

My foundation was built on

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