Enem Poem by Ehi Abah

It's not the nine-month journey
That makes you a mother
It's not the tickles given
Right underneath the arms
With me up in the air
That makes you You to me.
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The travails in labour
The smiles and cheers
For my first walk
The sighs and tears
When your one became half
And the joy in having us
------
You birthed me in that grim grey room
Where others' cries increased mine
You mothered me
With every step you made me take
Every word you bade me do
Every love you swamped me with
------
Many women have done virtuously
You excel them all...