Here's the book of my life
That tells the story of my being
From the pangs of birth
When I was brought
Into this world to witness
Chaos, wars, and tribulations
Of all kinds.
There were times of peace
And abundance too
Peace that created happiness
And abundance
That brought contentment
As we're happy enough
Whatever we could have.
As to provisions,
There was no lacking.
For wherever we lived
As nomads would do,
There's always fresh food
We put on the table
Straight from the harvest
Of our Mother's endless toils.
Day and night
She's out there
Cultivating and planting
In every space her eyes
Set on a piece of land
That was not even ours.
Yet, we were free to use
So we could live with dignity
To the present day.
To where I am,
Old at seventy
And passing through
All calamities of shame
And humility in life
With pride being hurled
Into the sea of sadness
By people turned traitors
As stories wouldn't be
Without enemies, foes
And villains in the form
Of smiling faces
That wear make-up
Too heavy to conceal
Their envy and jealousy
Of what I never have.
A mystery that still
Baffles me.
Dusting off the powder
Of disgust, oftentimes
Disappointment and
Resentment from every blow;
Firmly, my lowly being
Stand still silently in pain
But triumphantly win
Them all in silence;
By turning away
From the nagging hurts
And drew the curtains down,
Leaving the past behind me.
Seventy, the number
Of years
I wouldn't have known
What brought me here.
But my strong conviction
That there is someone
Above watching me
All the days of my life.
He gifted me
Two wonderful children
Who begot three
Adorable and beautiful
Angels,
My crowning glory
Honour and splendour.