In The Memory Poem by Gert Strydom

(for mother)

I try to honour the people
that went before me and now are in their graves,
to from the sand-castles of my childhood-days
build fortresses to the hereafter,
to follow the same God as my ancestors
and when death comes then I will see Him

but in my memory
there are albums that continually fold open
through which I page
and notice the days of hardship of you, mother,
who with selfless love did care for us
and still are helping me,
where the going of my life
is full of destiny
and with people turning it upside down.

I wish I could do more in your days of old age
to make the world easier for you,
to let it be carefree
but maybe the being together
is all present that I can bring to you.