an ode to the m♥therland
she was a queen – majestic above all others. ruler of vast nations, and beheld the love of all within her golden heart.
blessed with the type of beauty that reflects sunshine from a secret universe within. a universe that twinkled its stars in her black diamond eyes.
she possessed a grace and an elegance, forever unrivaled and never to be matched. adorned in her green crushed velvets, and silk flowers resting within her master piece braids.
her scent like impending rain, like blossoms, like lemon and orange trees, like sugar cane. sweet and fresh like her nature, but as subtle as the scent of a memory.
laid back like the rolling tableland plains of Botswana. carefree like a gentle sea breeze, dancing between, around, up and under..
her voice like the chorus of a joyful song, yet could command attention like thunder. a laugh that lifted up spirits like a gust of wind picks up autumn leaves and the skirts of pretty women.
oh, how i couldn’t wait to see her.. she was all i aspired to be, and everything i wanted to be associated with. her class, her beauty, her deep intellect..
when i left her bosom i spoke of her at every moment. i spoke of her with my head held high, and turned my nose up at those who had never been under the light of her sun-ray gaze.
i felt like a queen because i’d been raised by her. her, and her strong values and her wise teachings.
it had been years since i’d been near her. since i’d had a chance to see her. i’d been told about her, and they’d said terrible things. they said her beauty had been stripped by those she’d once held close like myself, and they’d fled to distant lands. raped her and left her bleeding until the soil beneath her had been turned red.
she’d become malicious, they said. conniving and setting wicked traps. dabbling in the black arts and stealing the souls of innocent babes.
i wouldn’t believe them… i couldn’t believe them. and then my moment of reckoning came, and armed with a camera i flew to be by her side, to capture the image of my queen, to prove to the rest of them she was the living image of my memory.
laying in thick, hot air, i found her. draped in dusty cottons, and with dried leaves and grass sitting in her black cotton hair. sunshine still gleaming from her heart and stars still twinkling in her vacant black diamond eyes. scars carved into her skin as evidence of a former glory now in ruins.
no longer adorned in the glory of the earth’s riches, and yet her skin still glittered in the light with a hope that lay within – glittered with the treasure that they had failed to take from her.
she gleamed as she saw my face and wrapped me in her warm embrace. “my child.” she shone with pride, yet i dulled with disappointment and shame. this is not what i had come from. down-cast and brokenhearted i resided by her side a while longer, just to amuse her and my pride waned.
the days and nights passed, and seemed to draw longer and longer. yet, she seemed to glow brighter and brighter. although mentallly knowing her predicament, her soul seemed unaware.
through dry, cracked lips her laughter came full of life and joy. full of fresh hope, like the downpour of cold rain quenching the thirst of my soul. her thirsty tongue still formed rich juicy fruits of wisdom and intelligence. and her heart she still emitted rays of warmth that even the sahara and the kalahari heat combined could not replicate. rays that warmed any that came near, and melted hearts frozen with shame. and amongst her rivulets of wrinkles her beauty still lay.
and despite all she had been put through, she still rose every morning with dignity in the midst of those who looked down at her and grimaced instead of smiled. she held her head high as she sat cross legged on a mat as if she still sat on her throne.
despite it all, she rises every morning no less the queen she was before. hidden within her a treasure no one has yet managed to steal. royalty, hidden but forever present, surging within her like rivers under the earth. my queen. my queen in whom i am proud of, from whom i came from.