A Mother Figure
She is the quiet dawn,
lifting shadows from the earth,
her hands, a cradle of warmth,
her voice, a shelter of song.
She is the river’s flow,
carving paths through stone,
teaching patience in silence,
guiding the lost back home.
She is the steadfast flame,
burning through the storm,
her light a beacon of hope,
her love a sacred form.
She is the unseen star,
shining through the mist,
The Chosen Warrior,
whose care none can resist.
She is the homemaker, the food-bearing goddess,
Yet through all the praise, she remains modest.
Mothers are everywhere, across the world,
in golden halls, in humble soil,
strong women united as one,
through misfortune, they still find joy.
Every living soul should honor them—
uncle, aunt, child,
and especially men.
Though we may falter, forget to be grateful,
A mother’s love remains faithful.
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