Every mother sees her future in the eyes of her children and grandchildren
Tears fall with the unflinching support of sorrow slowly taking all that is called hope
She was called by the name of her son
Now that he is no more what name must she bear
It's every mother's dream to be buried by her children but now she is burying the undertaker and the confine makers
The mouth that has not eaten enough salt and pepper must not see the grave but now the tongues, that have not tasted salt and sugar are lying in the graves
If only there is a way of changing which tree will fall and what leaf will fall then let all the old trees and the dry leaves fall
But we don't have the power to the undo
Tears of joy descend as children grow to put up shoes for parenthood but no these tears are motor happiness but a tragedy in comedy scenes those eyes that want my ends are at a feast for my lost
©® Felix Atta Amoakoh
©felixatta
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