Labimpe,
Love is a dove
That hovers above
Through the world is spherical
And time might be too fast
To grab unto it's cycle.
As the sky canopies above,
So wide.
It is irresistible to hide
My good, bad, and ugly sides
To one whom I call, child
Although the sun,
Might be dim.
For a blind man to discover,
Only the seeing man knows,
That the moon is nothing
But the sun, undercover.
And the trees
Might be unable to hold back
The rain that falls your way
But it prevents you from the sun's rays
Day after day.
Will one cut off the tree
Because of its inconvenience?
Only a fool
Will want things for free
Without expecting consequences.
Be you do good,
Be you do bad.
It all comes with a price
Of sacrifice.
Even the devil
Was once an Angel.
And an Angel
In the eyes of many,
Might be seen as
The devil.
As a young mother
I had washed your feet.
Never to be defeated
In life.
And as time grows,
Combed your flourishing hair
Never to be beheaded
From life.
These same hands
That raised you
Still wipes the tears
Of missing you.
These same hands
Are gloves my prayer wears
From the absence of you.
These same hands
That has returned
Back to the farmlands
Shall not tremble
And my feet,
Shall not falter
This emptiness
Shall not weary
My fears
Shall not alter.
These lips and eyes
Sheds nothing for you,
But the pains
Of a true mother.
The words of love
To its lover.
YOU ARE READING
My Voice, My Choice
Poetry#1 in africanpoetry #6 in racist This poem collection contains various atrocities that happens between mothers and their daughters. 'My Voice, My Choice' is a debate between an educated daughter and her illiterate mother. Experience is the best teac...
