Oh, this misery of a Mother.
This woman of the sun who quietly shrivels in on herself to feel the suffering of her people.
The sun is a red bloom aflame, preparing the body for forced fatigue.
Daughters of She suffer the isolation of what pain can bring.
She stands in a glory of green palm fronds delicately twisting under the weight of air.
Still she rises like a woman in flight.
Feeling the warmth of wind and attenuating through shear will of freedom.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.