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Mothers of Nations
Mothers of tribes, mothers of nations
how i adore you, your beauty never die
will never die
even when men,
with their unholy hands chain you
solid rock of generations, behind
their shadows your beauty stand unscathed
by the arrogance of their demeanor.
Their sharp tongues
have lost the tember of stone-blades.
When over the paths their chauvinistic airs
hold sway, harnessing bolts on your door
pelting shrieks of anger on you
bellowing like erotic bulls around a cow
on heat, do not melt away, do not cower
before their self-evasive machinations.
Soon the dust will settle
beneath their feet
and they will learn to recognize
the fire blazing in the hearth of your womb!
Within you, your beauty hides the solid rock
of your being, and your virtues and strength
to care and work enhances our zest for love
amid the vast forest
of deep, differing voices.
The smile on your lips as ever
spruces up your contorted face.
You bring forth offsprings, as ascribed
lowly and high to their places-
Them, who fail to recognize
themselves at the trough of your wrinkle.
Tomorrow, without ceremony
they will reach the age
of their arrogance
and you will remain
etched like a fireball
on the solid rock of your womanhood!
