Dear Mother,
Time is an eclipse that holds us in its grasp
Intermingling, it transpires
Yet we delay
We cherish our mothers and brothers
and speak love to the trees
to the sun
to our ancestors
All this love
was birthed by you.
Time is an eclipse that holds us in its grasp
Intermingling, it transpires
Yet we delay
We cherish our mothers and brothers
and speak love to the trees
to the sun
to our ancestors
All this love
was birthed by you.