A mother’s spectacles
Is like a fairy oracle
Her love, making her a congregant in her children’s tabernacle
In them is her miracles
So in their diabolicals, she gets no logicals
Even their unfunny jokes act comical
On a stage most find horrible
Oh her love is so adorable!
Who forgets the stretch of stomach walls?
The boiling pain in saucepans of breasts?
Who forgets the load of carrying
Like a world in an ever growing lead in the stomach?
Who forgets the taunting back pain
Which sounds like the whips of an annoyed demon of hell?
Who forgets the pushing and tearing
Or the knifing and stitching
And oh the grinding of sores
Which swells innocent pores?
Who forgets flattening breasts like fallen pancakes?
Who forgets the bloating and sleeplessness?
Who forgets the culprits of these ills and loves like an enchanted fool?
None but a mother
One who can pluck her life from life’s tree
If her own can sit comfortably on it
Oh a mother’s spectacles!
A lens none can get
Without stretching on the life and death path
Of opening life’s doors
Either in heart, mind or body to others
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 23, 2017