Great books and great men have tried to describe a mother in so many beautiful and powerful ways, but none enough to qualify her strength, none enough to describe her grace.
My mother is like the earth, great and yet subtle.
She is a creator; she births, Her seeds birth, their seeds birth, and she still remain the mother of them all.
My mother is love, what force on Earth is greater than love, what force on Earth is greater than my mother?
During birth, she wailed yet she smiled as she felt the little one in her hand.
She shook in pain as the little one grabbed her breast with his gum, she didn’t throw him away but still beckoned on him to eat, “eat my child”, she said.
She carried her little one on her back and held another hand with a big tray on her head as she hawked street to street, the sun her regular customer.
She fed the little one at night and while she did, she nodded, falling asleep, the little one cried out, she woke and patted his back, calmed him down, saying “sorry my child”.
She is tired but she still fights, she is a mother.
God is a mother, every quality in him, in her I see. Who else can love so much, who else can care so much, who else can chastise so much, who else can mother so much?