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Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
Mother of my Homeland
In 1981, thrived in the wound to enter this world. The nurture of her nature strengthened the cells of her young. Purified by the love of the gift she so hoped she deserved. July 23, of that year the water came and soon a new life was in her hands. In her eyes, life was that child nothing mattered before or after. She carried her child all through life making sure no one would destroy her. The pains of her body for years and years, but never did she fear because of the love of her child. She grew old and relied on her child. No matter the loss and disappointment, she still thrived for her child. In her words she instilled strength and love. In her words were hard truths and journeys. In her eyes, the truth of her heart that stopped the minute her child turned 38. She returned to her homeland and found the grace, she so often desired for her young. Her home is no longer with her baby, who was now 39, but in the spirit and in the arms of homeland creator. Her memories live in the eyes of her little wound creation, her child. The child now 39, suffering from loss because her home which is no longer here, her homeland is a place we can no longer see.
By Donna A Gilmore 4 years ago in Poets
