Harry Biosah Poet Prose

Sweet Mother

My seasoned Iroko
The Olumo rock
Of my spine
The one who climbs
Mount Kilimanjaro 
With one step
I salute you

Mother,
Whose face is crisper 
Than,
 Bright, black stars, gold
And,
Precious diamonds of Africa
I salute you 

Mother,
Who fearlessly tames fiery furnace
With bare fingers
Who kills one million lions 
In a single raid
Quencher and killer of hunger
I salute you

Mother,
Whose slender arms 
Are stronger than
The walls of Jericho 
The fearless one
Whose Google 
Makes men shrink 
Between their thighs 
The lone ranger
Who goes hunting
Without a gun
But,
Returns with basket
Filled with bounties 
I salute you

Mother,
Kind landlady who nurtured me 
For nine monthis
Without recouping rent
How can I forget
Your sugar soothing 
Lullabies at bed time
And,
Your caressing, warm, tender fingers
Which,
Like the magic of baobab
Heal me from 
Sickness and sadness
I salute you 

Mother,
Whose dark, impenetrable wings
Immune me from
Sharp arrows of my traducers
Whose,
Angelic smile disarms
More than a billion
Straying demons
I salute you

Sweet, ebony, Mother,
The greatest of the greatest
The unproclaimed, undefeated,
Unheralded and undisputed
Champion of all heavyweights,
Killer and Quencher of hunger,
I salute you!

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