Through my Daughters eyes
Look at that nose! Look at those lips! Look at that behind! Those feet and those legs!
I don’t want to look like that! I would rather look like my father, so lean and so handsome.
The innocence of my girl child, so she said
I cannot stand her! I Hate her! She possibly cannot be my mother! I am certain I am adopted!
How can she scold me like that? Punish me like that? If she were really my mother, she would treat me differently. Be kinder, gentler.
These are the adolescent years my child, so she said
Your mother is the best, She always lends an ear. I can confide in her.
YOU are really blessed!
That cannot be farther from the truth.
As the clock winds
I look into the mirror with blood shot eyes. Crying uncontrollably, surrounded by all these women.
My neighbour from next door, the mother from down the street; and the other woman from the corner house BUT my mother - WHERE is my mother through my tribulations?
As they leave, she ushers them out,
Thank you for coming, she says.
Lights off – darkness!
Hush my daughter, so she said – in her heart
Those few seconds and the hours that followed felt like eternity…
Curtains open – sun shines in
I look into her eyes. If I had never felt love, I felt it in her stare. Those milliseconds, I FEEL my mother’s bond. All my pain absorbed in her being; like am an unborn child with the umbilical cord, the ONLY life line between us.
Hers in mine and mine in hers
Hush my daughter; she did not have to say
As the clock winds – the phone rings
I have been diagnosed with an illness. I remember that fateful day. I need not say a word.
Hush mama, so says my soul
I am surrounded by extra-ordinary women, women who need not understand nothing, but their love and support is remarkable.
Hush they say, these are troubling times
As the clock winds, the laughter is getting louder and louder
We laugh about the wigs we bought when being bold was temporarily in fashion, the gothic black nail polish to cover the dungeon brown nails.
Remember you once wore my clothes, when we reminisce about the 40 XXL days.
Do me a favour, I say, don’t ever collapse on me in Paris!! Who, ever, collapses in the capital of love, due to a healthy overdose?
Your laughter was my medicine, so she says
As the clock winds the phone rings, the voice is more mature and a lot softer
I found a picture of you when you were my age. Your complexion is so perfect, your lips so full against that dark skin colour. You are so beautiful and so enchanting.
Do you still want to look like your father, she asks
(I wish I could say, not really – just not sure what you saw in him?)
As the clock winds, I ask myself what is it about this woman!?
Is it her silence when there are bombs, blasts and explosions inside of me?
Is it her cooking and baking when my intestines are about to eat each other?
Is it her words when my heart is unmendable?
Someone answers: It is her Mamtha – Her motherliness
Motherliness –well, what she is, is borderline miraculous. She is a Phenomenal woman.
She is you and she is me – you do not learn Mamtha. Your being a woman is inherent motherliness.
Your hello gives hope that it is a new day
Your hug envelopes those that receive it with love
When you say, it will be ok – it ends up ok
Your words of encouragement build a girl child and big boys
Your extra-ordinary compassion strings woman together – it builds a nation
You embrace your flaws and turn them into the most fabulous accessories
You Rise up, You, magnificent women and take your positions…
She has been a daughter but now she is a mother; a mother to many.
Those many - many a times have mothered me, have mothered you and unselfishly so.
Not necessarily of the same blood but their motherliness saw no flesh.
As the clock winds…I am her daughter
I have been a daughter to many and to many I will be a mother.
So, Today and tomorrow when you greet, when you walk past, when you sit across a
Phindile
Harriet
Evon
Nancy
Ophilia
Mpho
Esther
Nkele
Ayanda, and
Lumka
Hush and Look, Look into their eyes
They are you; they are me exceptional and absolutely miraculous,
NOT women but phenomenal daughters and mothers.
I don’t want to look like that! I would rather look like my father, so lean and so handsome.
The innocence of my girl child, so she said
I cannot stand her! I Hate her! She possibly cannot be my mother! I am certain I am adopted!
How can she scold me like that? Punish me like that? If she were really my mother, she would treat me differently. Be kinder, gentler.
These are the adolescent years my child, so she said
Your mother is the best, She always lends an ear. I can confide in her.
YOU are really blessed!
That cannot be farther from the truth.
As the clock winds
I look into the mirror with blood shot eyes. Crying uncontrollably, surrounded by all these women.
My neighbour from next door, the mother from down the street; and the other woman from the corner house BUT my mother - WHERE is my mother through my tribulations?
As they leave, she ushers them out,
Thank you for coming, she says.
Lights off – darkness!
Hush my daughter, so she said – in her heart
Those few seconds and the hours that followed felt like eternity…
Curtains open – sun shines in
I look into her eyes. If I had never felt love, I felt it in her stare. Those milliseconds, I FEEL my mother’s bond. All my pain absorbed in her being; like am an unborn child with the umbilical cord, the ONLY life line between us.
Hers in mine and mine in hers
Hush my daughter; she did not have to say
As the clock winds – the phone rings
I have been diagnosed with an illness. I remember that fateful day. I need not say a word.
Hush mama, so says my soul
I am surrounded by extra-ordinary women, women who need not understand nothing, but their love and support is remarkable.
Hush they say, these are troubling times
As the clock winds, the laughter is getting louder and louder
We laugh about the wigs we bought when being bold was temporarily in fashion, the gothic black nail polish to cover the dungeon brown nails.
Remember you once wore my clothes, when we reminisce about the 40 XXL days.
Do me a favour, I say, don’t ever collapse on me in Paris!! Who, ever, collapses in the capital of love, due to a healthy overdose?
Your laughter was my medicine, so she says
As the clock winds the phone rings, the voice is more mature and a lot softer
I found a picture of you when you were my age. Your complexion is so perfect, your lips so full against that dark skin colour. You are so beautiful and so enchanting.
Do you still want to look like your father, she asks
(I wish I could say, not really – just not sure what you saw in him?)
As the clock winds, I ask myself what is it about this woman!?
Is it her silence when there are bombs, blasts and explosions inside of me?
Is it her cooking and baking when my intestines are about to eat each other?
Is it her words when my heart is unmendable?
Someone answers: It is her Mamtha – Her motherliness
Motherliness –well, what she is, is borderline miraculous. She is a Phenomenal woman.
She is you and she is me – you do not learn Mamtha. Your being a woman is inherent motherliness.
Your hello gives hope that it is a new day
Your hug envelopes those that receive it with love
When you say, it will be ok – it ends up ok
Your words of encouragement build a girl child and big boys
Your extra-ordinary compassion strings woman together – it builds a nation
You embrace your flaws and turn them into the most fabulous accessories
You Rise up, You, magnificent women and take your positions…
She has been a daughter but now she is a mother; a mother to many.
Those many - many a times have mothered me, have mothered you and unselfishly so.
Not necessarily of the same blood but their motherliness saw no flesh.
As the clock winds…I am her daughter
I have been a daughter to many and to many I will be a mother.
So, Today and tomorrow when you greet, when you walk past, when you sit across a
Phindile
Harriet
Evon
Nancy
Ophilia
Mpho
Esther
Nkele
Ayanda, and
Lumka
Hush and Look, Look into their eyes
They are you; they are me exceptional and absolutely miraculous,
NOT women but phenomenal daughters and mothers.
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