Birth Poem by Rue Palmer

Mother of the Soil
- A poem of African motherhood and resilience -

She walks with the dawn on her shoulders,
Barefoot on paths carved by memory and dust,
Carrying tomorrow wrapped in cloth
Tied to the curve of her spine, firm with trust.

Her lullabies echo through valleys of pain,
Songs soaked in sorrow but blooming with grace,
She sows with her hands what the storm has taken,
And reaps with her soul what the earth won't erase.

Her love is not soft—it is strength forged in fire,
Not roses, but roots that go deep through the years,
She dries her tears in the folds of her dress,
So her children may dance unburdened by fears.

Her back bends like a bow drawn by time,
Yet she stands like a mountain when they call her name,
Queen without crown, prophet in silence,
She bears every burden with pride, not shame.

Through famine and fire, through war and through wind,
She builds from the ashes, she weaves through the rain,
From cradle to coffin, from soil to the sun,
She is the heartbeat that conquers the pain.

O Mother Africa—giver, survivor,
Your story is etched in each wrinkle and scar.
Not broken, but battle-born—still rising,
Still glowing, like an ancestral star.