Happy birthday we sing
To the woman of knowledge,
Intellect and care.
She stands strong, significant
In the living room of ‘da yard’.
Rest a while on the pillow
Of her throne;
Her only request,
Peace and quiet;
It is not much to ask for.

Forty six, but this is not ageing.
The soft skin on her bones
Still young, disguise the feeling.
Eyes still glazed with dreams
Of future and hope.
Mind still as sharp as I can recall.
All the good things
In one small package.
Strength, beauty, wisdom
Inspires my heart and soul.
‘Life ain’t ‘alf hard’
We make it through nonetheless.
Funny, we laugh at the small things
And why not? ‘It’s good for the soul’, she says.

Glancing a moment at the mirror,
Cobwebs cleared and the cracks are filled.
Dazzling, it is her own reflection
That stares back at her.
How long has it been?
Forty six years.
‘Better late than never’.
Now you see what’s really there, inside.
Never the need to be afraid.
It’s passed, the time has passed.
Accept that presence, be proud,
And know yourself.

When the day is over,
Apron strings cling back round her waist.
My brothers thrive off the attention once more,
While I sit and observe.
Hands burn for tidy living,
Voice firm and recognised,
Echoing through the walls of every room.
Control is regained, it’s hers.
Back to being mum
Again.

Kizzy Anyanwu