Poem: My poor mother

My Poor Mother

My poor mother, the one and only I love,

These days you are constantly in my thoughts,

I can’t sleep or find rest,

Preoccupied with worry about the impending fate,

Thinking of what the pandemic might unleash upon you,

Asking myself so many questions, wondering how you will fare,

Filling in the blanks with observations and facts.

I fear for you, should the pandemic conquer your heart.

You may not have the strength to defend yourself, your home, your core.

Your grown children, with potential and capability, have left—

Fled to distant lands, seeking safety or driven by greed.

Your doctors are not here to care for you,

They, too, have gone abroad, seemingly indifferent to your plight.

How will you bear the losses you are bound to face?

What are you doing to protect your children in this critical time?

What are you doing, dear mother?

My beloved, my poor mother,

Let me hear your pain,

Let me listen to your story before one of us sleeps for eternity.

Even now, we see that the rich and powerful nations

Cannot protect their own people.

It seems the more civilized they are, the greater their loss.

They create powerful, modern, computerized weapons to destroy,

But they fail to produce the vital vaccines needed in this crucial time.

They satisfy human desires, making life seem limitless,

They go to the Moon, to Mars,

Dreaming of one day living there.

Yet, they cannot stop their people from dying of COVID-19.

That is why I worry about you, about my siblings.

So, my poor mother, tell me:

How prepared are you for the losses to come?

You know well how your leaders are corrupt,

Conspiring against the masses for their own interests and ego.

They barely work together to find solutions for the problems at hand.

How will you bear the loss of your poor children,

When they don’t care for one another,

When they are indifferent while their siblings die?

Do you think they will change their ways and protect each other?

Do you think they can be generous, learn to survive together?

My poor mother, you don’t have the power or the knowledge to protect them.

Their lifestyles expose them, make them vulnerable.

They lack the materials needed to safeguard themselves.

You’ve already seen how this pandemic is taking lives worldwide,

How even the richest, most developed nations cannot fight back.

So, my poor mother, how will you fight to save your children?

Do you have any advice for them in these dark times?

Have you glimpsed hope, any dreams of better days for your children?

Mama Africa, may the Almighty Waaqayyoo bless and protect your children.

I am so desperately worried, I cannot sleep or rest,

Fearing the infection will reach your children.

My only beloved mother, may the spirits of our ancestors protect you and your kin.

May the Almighty spare me from witnessing the death of my brothers and sisters,

Of your children.

I pray that God will save our world from such devastation and death.

I wish you a long and healthy life,

And may your innocence shield you from this evil.

2020-06-08

Written during the outbreak of the so-called COVID-19 pandemic