My Lady Mother Poem by Jacinta Nabakooza

The truest woman that ever eyes
beheld at their deepest joy,
Made each hand, in busiest a day
The dearness of being capable.

Her loitering was my sureness each day
Her sweating was my hope
The meals that did my jaws excite
Was why she in every step walked.

I thought it solitary a world
As I wanted, wanted to be;
Selfishly with her
As ageless as the moon.

Yet faster as a blink was time
That germinated our years
And matured I into a woman
When My Lady Mother, into gray, she advanced.

And sorrows as endless a moon rise,
or as thick red a rose is,
Through broken backbone or wrinkled face
For was she and herself
To create nicest a world for us.


Burdens she shouldered, menace she dared
To defy scorn and shame of her gender
All she beared,
For us to slumber placidly.

Cleanest her love high was
Thoughtfully as she trekked
Overflowed her filial piety
The seed of her womb.

Bliss beyond celestials
Shone upon her temples
Grand, picturesquely exacting
Elegance gathered high.

Thrust upon her was, my hand, heart and mind
Whose surety during then dare I say
was with no hypocrisy
Declaring core a gratitude.

So much as she lived,
My Lady Mother
her lips proclaimed
many days for us; Providence Shalt bless us.