A poem that I have written about a mother who went through this hardships in life and she has no one to ask for help in country that is still facing a civil war.
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Mama…My first wordMy first bondMy first love
Between a mother and childLove is so tender and mildLove is gentle and kindO Mama you are pricelessYou are my goddess
You are to me a fallen oak tree,whose limbs are turned and bent.A soul who reached so high to be freebut the wind was harsh and down you were sent.Those stars were your guiding beams,softly stitched doll whose gift was a song,shaken so hard you fe
I have lived my whole life in Kismaayo Hunger and disparity drove me from Kismaayo to Mirsale I became a mother at the age of thirteen A year later I cry as I dig a grave Mourning the death of the child that I bore A year later I cry as I dig a
