iyamuremye will (east africa)

A widow like her
Awakes before sunrise
Though sleepy still she rise
To work hard and end up with a prize
To break up with poverty and its ties
A widow like her must go in disguise
Only because her neighbors take her unwise
That her children have shrieked in size
From garden to market to kitchen like rolling dice
Hurrying up food to stop her children's cries
Each one she serves a plate on it a slice
Night falls and she kneels down for a sacrifice
Praying and wishing tomorrow may turn paradise