Woman: Shade Providing Tree of all Times:

Her soul means nothing to her
insofar people around her are
her possessions she gives
in the service of humanity;
in the rain and in the sun,
without carrier pad,
she carries loads for
the good of her household.

On her shoulders are
she bear and carry to
make many happy;
every time she turns herself
to primary pain bearer,
graciously through support,
trust, and loyalty,
she pursues fix-it-solution on
behalf of her household.

Her back she turns to mobile
cot or crib for generations that
will pass through her womb,
because of eternal bond of love
it will create,
all inconveniences that come
with this sacrifice,
she overlook.

Upon her belly-her mate-
finds joy and happiness,
in her tummy she nurtures life;
her breasts-a major part of
temple of love,
temple every living soul

Temple-that holds no more
than two worshippers at a time,
a homogenous and a universal
temple that carries
same structure, rituals, rites,
routine, and custom.

Without hymn book,
worshippers worldwide sing
same songs and,
without formal training,
but by means of intuition
and visceral-
services are conducted-
in a romantic language of love.

Her nipples or fountains
milk-of-life to generations;
her areola a more noble
role it performs,
as it establishes mother-child
everlasting affinity which no
money can buy.

Her non-tiring laps-
couch of eternity-
every child prefers to a
crib or a cot,
because of warm and
bond it creates;
the powerful parallel beams
of ages
that carry lover during coquetry.

Her legs-the spinning wheels-
which create powerful
dance steps and whenever
activated put a baby
into a sleep;
the lightning rod on a

Her dexterous and multi-purpose
hands perform varied functions-
keep home clean-
put food on the table,
turn waste to wealth,
nudge soul when necessary,
correct body in times of need.

More than sun,
her heart and mind warm
the soul,
more than any strong root,
her heart and mind sustain
the body;
beatitude her presence brings
benediction her soul leaves
anywhere she visits.

Neither does her salt lose
nor does her ginger
her preservative function.

Will you make me happy
the shade of life?
Will you make me joyful
the fountain of life?
Make my courtyard
your permanent abode,
a signpost of love-
you shall be, and
a signpost of life-
you shall become to



No comments:

Blogger Widgets
Powered by Blogger.