While saints meditated and atheist denied,
On Earth it was that Him I found,
He was gentle and He was soft,
He was in the form of the lady I love the most.
Years ago when we met,
Perhaps there was a tear in Her beautiful eyes,
Perhaps a faint smile on Her lips,
Or perhaps both witnessing our meet.
When I close my eyes and pages are turned,
I find the soft fingers wiping my tears.
I find the lips smiling on my victory.
I find the eyes crying on my pains.
When pages are turned,
I find a life lived for someone else.
I find a breath taken for someone else.
I find a heaven my Mother made for me.
I was there protected, warm in Her lap,
While She had all the bruises.
I was there being proud on my new dress,
While She counted what she saved.
I was there taking the credit of my victories,
She was there working hard for me.
I was there for myself.
She was there for Her daughter.
Years are rolling by,
And I love when we sit together and laugh,
I love when she provides me Her shoulder to cry on,
I love when I am able to make Her smile.
People proclaimed God is there.
Yes He is.
For me He is in the form of Her,
Whom I proudly call my dear Mother.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem