Hear my pulse **beating from** a far way,
Like **women beating yams** from the villages to usher in the new day,
Cows **mowing grass** and rooster on his post, to welcome the golden age.
Like the Sun to the Moon we see eye to eye. **But we can never coexist** in the same environ.
How can you walk away from your family? leaving your sons and daughters to fend on their own?
Mother **becoming more than a Wife**, stepping up to fill in the shoes left behind.
Being a father to the sons and daughters of man is not easy, I say,
I can teach you how to love my dear ones,
Just promise me that you will not turn out as your Father.
I guess the only father figure I relate to is my uncles and neighbors and male teachers in my school,
The only father I am left with is up above looking and taking care of my well-being.
Being a boy is not easy, especially when your siblings look up to you,
I am only but a boy, or should I say man cub,
What strikes me is the similarity between my Father and God is that they both rested on the seventh day.
God blessed the day after working for six days and kept it as a Sabbath.
My father, on the other hand, rested his case after **he saw** that I was six years old, old enough to get educated.
You could say I learnt the hard way, tough love.
He left one morning as usual for work,
**That was** the last time I heard from him.
I can't even find the words that best describe the pleasure of knowing that you find strength when you are the weakest at heart.
Leaving a hole in our lives never to be filled with love and happiness,
The nights when we had no lights and we had to make ourselves shine and get out of the shantiness,
The moment I made top three in lower primary school,
Mother **sang** and praised her son for not only being kind to every soul,
Saying out loud, "My son is built for cleverness,
One day he might conquer the mountain Everest.
He might be the hero in our midst,
Despite all odds, he sure is a walking testimony,
Of what determination and prayer can make you be.
From beating yams in the village women, making the best out of the African staples,
He sure did beat the **deep hollow** in his heart,
One day when you get your own place and start a family,
Be kind to **the mother of your children** and don't turn and be like your father."
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LETTERS FOR MY MOTHER
الشعرThis is collective writting of words and expreciences i had with my Mother and my day to day views as a man .Now painting a view of life as we know it through my works of letters and poetry
