The Sunday Mail
Munashe Monica Rupazo
St Faith’s High School
A sun rises in the morning because a new day has begun,
And in that day much is expected to achieve.
From every field worked on, a harvest is expected.
Likewise for each day we live on earth
A harvest is expected to embrace.
Here they are, Women of Africa.
Born to fight, fight they do for a life in their bellies.
They struggle for life, bleed for life,
And birth the Almighty grants their quest.
Their happiness, hope and fulfilment
Concealed in the little ones they hold in arms tight.
Tiny, but full of every hope a woman desires to change her world.
Tiny, but mighty.
The sun rises from the east she takes another step forward.
It far reaches the middle sky, but she never sits down to rest.
She has the hope to give life
To breathe into the dry bones her assurance of a better future.
You can see it through the beauty of her anxiety
You can also feel it from the sweetness of her tears.
If you look closer into her eyes you see the pain and the joy,
The strife, endurance and pleasures of a restless warrior.
You can read it from the paint on her faces,
It is in the fullness of her breasts,
In the content of her sorrow.
She never tires, she keeps on trying
For she knows that one might not lose anything by trying
And one can still lose something by not trying,
But one will always gain experience to do things better after trying again.
What makes her a mother is she does not look at the prize
But she looks at the change it makes for her children’s future.
She cares for the efforts she puts in to make a difference.
She might die, but she will always live a legacy of non-dubious love.
The sun in her life rises every morning she wakes
And her love makes a difference in the world when she strides,
Even with the little she might be suppressed to offer.
Happy Mother’s Day, Amai.
