My Mother (Dedicated to all women)
My mother is not a question lag
to trail behind someone’s utterances,
She is a being full of life,
and wants to live like a human being.
My mother is not a flower
meant to adorn someone’s coat pocket,
She is a beautiful bloom,
and has her cosmos talent within,
She is a spring of maternal love
that sweetens life itself.
My mother is not a feeble creeper
that leans on a vane tree,
She has her own roots
to give her infinite strength
She bears new blossoms
and fruit for whole earth.
My mother is not a tiny bird
with her wings clipped,
to be caged and domesticated,
She is a blithe spirited eagle
keen to face the turbulent winds
and measure the vast skies.
My mother is not a simple boat
to play on the silent waters,
She is a ship with her own mast,
and her will and fierce force
to fight the violent currents
and cut into deep waters.
My mother is definitely not a question tag
to trudge along someone’s utterance like an echo,
She is to be honored and worshiped
As next to God and life force itself.
