Poor but Strong
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| Credit: https://openclipart.org/detail/240490/poor-mother-and-kids |
Like a driftwood, she is rocked around by life
Daily hustle barely provides her food
She consumes garbage with gratitude
Her empty pockets limit her plans to a day
She prays for the warm summer
But, Antarctica becomes her lover
She prepares for the cold weather
But, she is embraced by the desert heat
Each new dawn comes with a fresh cycle of thorns
And no one seems to care if she crashes and burns
Suffering clothes her as the flesh clothes bones
The gate to wealth is more guarded than Alcatraz
She is accustomed to grovelling and begging
With every benefactor attempting to take advantage
Crumbs embedded inside layers of manipulating
Further compounding the odds against her
Reality of lack has even made her so brittle
Constant fever remains her pain relief
Frequent dementia fuels her hope for a better future
She has realised that she has only ‘her’ to alleviate ‘her pain’
When she sees ‘men in uniform’, nightmares of the past are animated
Memories of right place, but wrong time which landed her behind bars
Days when her tears cradled her to sleep
She had crossed a leader of her community
Regardless, she refuses to become a demon
No matter how justified it may seem
Because although she may be poor
Her poverty is not of the mind
By Sylvanus Ebiegberi Nabena
Twitter: @slynabena
Daily hustle barely provides her food
She consumes garbage with gratitude
Her empty pockets limit her plans to a day
She prays for the warm summer
But, Antarctica becomes her lover
She prepares for the cold weather
But, she is embraced by the desert heat
Each new dawn comes with a fresh cycle of thorns
And no one seems to care if she crashes and burns
Suffering clothes her as the flesh clothes bones
The gate to wealth is more guarded than Alcatraz
She is accustomed to grovelling and begging
With every benefactor attempting to take advantage
Crumbs embedded inside layers of manipulating
Further compounding the odds against her
Reality of lack has even made her so brittle
Constant fever remains her pain relief
Frequent dementia fuels her hope for a better future
She has realised that she has only ‘her’ to alleviate ‘her pain’
When she sees ‘men in uniform’, nightmares of the past are animated
Memories of right place, but wrong time which landed her behind bars
Days when her tears cradled her to sleep
She had crossed a leader of her community
Regardless, she refuses to become a demon
No matter how justified it may seem
Because although she may be poor
Her poverty is not of the mind
Twitter: @slynabena
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