Beautiful from inside out she is,
My strong, brave, big, black beautiful woman.
Comes in many shapes and sizes she does,
Courageous, loving, self-sacrificing, beautiful black woman
Mother to one, mother to all, those are her characteristics.
Regal is her bearing, demure her composure.
From all hues of the "beautiful black rainbow" she hails,
Ebony black, chocolate caramel, golden brown, toffee coloured and light cream,
Fat, slim, curvy or not, kinky-haired or permed,
They are all lovely, beautiful just as God created them.
Mothers of Kings, Princes, Freedom fighters and even slaves,
The beautiful strong black woman, loves with abandon.
Her love has no conditions, and she can bear any burden for love,
For the love of her man, her child, her brothers, sisters, and her tribe.
She asks for no payment in return, often receiving none as her due,
But still she loves, and loves deeply....
God gave the black woman a heart of gold, because he knew,
Hers was a heart that needed to be strong, brave, pure and long-suffering.
Brow-beaten by society, kept in bondage by norms and customs, for many a year,
The brave, beautiful black woman will not stay down,
Will never stay down.....
Like the beautiful phoenix, she arises from the ashes of her suffering,
To birth the dreams and aspirations of future generations.
Like Sarah of old, she will be given laughter for tears, joy for ashes,
Her rewards await her, in heaven if not on earth.
Her rewards await her, in heaven if not on earth.
She does have moments of triumph however, small though they may be,
Like when her child succeeds in life and honours her,
The achievements of her man, delight her heart,
The coming of grandchildren, her crowning glory.
Strong, bold, brave, lovely, beautiful black woman, I salute you.
For never giving up, for loving despite the pain,
For triumphing over abuse, betrayal, rejection and abandonment.
For coping with polygamy, concubines, endless pregnancies and infant deaths.
For not succumbing to western ideas and ideals of what beauty is,
For redefining in a way only black women can, of what OUR beauty truly is.
For carrying on, when sometimes our men have given up.
For being there still, when all else have deserted,
Endurance is her middle name, the strong, courageous, beautiful black woman,
Endurance is her middle name, the strong, courageous, beautiful black woman,
And what a lovely name that is....
From the lowliest of prisons, to the loftiest kings thrones, you'll find her,
Loving, supporting, encouraging her husband, her son, her father, brother or friend.
Her love is like a favourite blanket; soft, warm and encompassing,
Her lips sing lullaby's to babes in arms, her arms comfort the crying child.
She holds her man in high esteem, and if he treats her right,
Wow, he can barely cope with the delights....
Wild and untamed, passionate yet submissive, strong yet so soft.
Beautiful from inside out; wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend
I salute all the strong, brave, bold, lovely and loving, beautiful black women I know,
And especially for my dear late mum; Ogbuefi Mrs Ursula Nwanefuru Akumabor
Mbona, Dalu so, Nagode, Ekusé, Asante sana...
By Christie Nonyelum Akumabor 01/05/10
And especially for my dear late mum; Ogbuefi Mrs Ursula Nwanefuru Akumabor
Mbona, Dalu so, Nagode, Ekusé, Asante sana...
By Christie Nonyelum Akumabor 01/05/10
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| My Mum, Grandmum and Aunt. |
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Mum and daughter    With my darling grandmother    |
6 comments:
Lovely, encouraging. Yes she is beautiful. I join the Club of Admirers (wait a minute, I am already a member :D ).. Thank you. I enjoyed the reading. :)
You are very welcome Yuriy, from one sincere connoisseur to another, much love, cheers.
Ha! This brings tears to my eyes. Such a beautiful piece you've written there. I wish I could show it to my mum's friend in Nigeria. Let me tell you about this woman, this epitome of love and dedication.
She suffered to send her kids to school: 2 boys and 1 girl, without her husband lifting a finger. She sold dry fish and crayfish in the market, wholesale and retail. The money she made was not only for school fees but also to feed the house cos her husband couldn't care less. This same profits she saved some to build a family home so they would stop leaving in rented apartments. And oh! She was also a school teacher, a mainly woman's profession. We know how they are treated in Nigeria.
Well, her troubles started when her son she sent to school, started making money. All of a sudden, he wouldn't involve his own mum in his plans. He advised his dad to leave his mum, gave his dad money to go build his own house and leave his mother. His reasons? His mother had become too proud. His father took his money and bought a piece of land and started building, in readiness to leave his wife! These sons would come to the house and beat this woman until she was covered with bruises and blood. She would cry and ask what she had done to deserve all that.
God heard her cries! Her husband died recently, after a few weeks in coma. Just a couple of days before their son's marriage. Her son who was getting married, didn't involve his mum in his marriage plans and beat her with a cane for any excuse; his house was burgled by thieves and everything he bought to celebrate his wedding, was stolen. The wedding went ahead, but the things like wedding programme, the printers messed them up. They had only the bride's name on them, but not his. My mum's friend, still a wife and mother, is mourning her husband and consoling her son at the same time. Despite all he had done to her, she has still taken him to her bosom and loved him. What a woman. What an epitome of a woman!
Wow Hilaria hmmmmmm is all I can say. I almost shed tears when I read about your friends story. God created us with wonderful capacities to love and give love. This love can soothe a thousand wrongs. Sadly we loose, corrupt and pervert this ability to love, BUT in mothers you often find the manifestation of love as was meant to be between s mother and child, occasionally betseen fsthers and children
Yet mothers and wives are so put down by the society snd sometimes their nearest and dearest, sadly. I penned this poem to CELEBRATE women especially African and other Black women because they are one of the worst oppressed. God will certainly console, reward and bless your friends mum.And I hope her son changes his attitude else there is more bad news to come. God NEVER forgets His own even during the worst of times.
Far Better Than The Kangaroos...far better than the kangaroos pouch is a mother's bosom, it ceases not to keep warm the child, it's the ever loving, caring abode of the child, the open arms of the mother to her erring child...
Thanks for reading and your nice comments too Olukayode, I really appreciate it, cheers
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