Ma mère

Who sat and watched my infant head when sitting on my cradle bed and tears of sweet affection shed?
My mother…
The Yorubas have a saying that iya ni wura, baba ni jigi
Mother is gold… it is true
Gold is priceless, a treasure worthy of eternal value
My destiny in your hands, the security of my future
image

My pride, my strength, my covering
My mother to me
Through measles, pox and heart aches
By my side she stays, a silent supporter of all I am
She stays awake so I can sleep
I am beautiful in her eyes and without blemish
Mama mi o ro ju ri, that is why I’m loving you
Ni tori omo, le se wa ni ile oko
She carried me, gave me life
Even when I hurt her, all she sees is forgiveness
How can I wish the child I carried in my womb evil she says
The priestess over my head
My shield and blind support
My backbone and the neck on which my head stands
I honour you mother, for the pain you endured to watch me live
Her prayers, my victory
Her early morning blessings guarantees my day’s success
We rise and call you blessed – many women have done well but you excel them all

Pulchae

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