A desert comes to mind, the beauty of mothers lay in wait.
The waste of mortal coil that breathes the unending smell of weight.
Sluggish thought of what was once there but only a sign of water.
The vast land of grains of sand cluster together like a mortar.
Death, the roughness of terrain is only brought to a kind.
When struggles warmed up the ordinary eyes is, but blinded.
Permanent shortage and occasional spring.
Moisture and light inform us it’s time to build another threshing.
The sprinters of Marathon, bringing forth the Sahara love grass, a purine.
An average of over a hundred Fahrenheit, we are still not barren.
Life’s fruitfulness dried up completely
erasing any trace of our existence.
God’s greatest invention is made to store enough nourishment to survive the length of a lifelessness.
Hope, that contradicts a world without end.
Women are the rose of Jericho, the baby toes of Namibia.
Adaptation, a freewill to protect ourselves from bloodthirsty callers.
Not to be susceptible like the cauliflower, a mastery we unlearn as walers.
We generate so much beauty in the midst of misogynistic ugliness.
Cradle of civilization a prior dream of man’s world lustiness.
Yet, reality has no significant bearing as we take each step.
A footprint left for those after us, a clue of the struggles we outstep.
Toughest of all species, symbol of fertility, of continuity, of tomorrow, that all is not mislaid.
As the tenere tree of Niger, the loneliness of the cosmos has not defined us.
We represent the symbol of life in the middle of the disarray as we hold discourse.
Our roots are tentatively buried deep into the netherworld.
As we mine our source of spring, drawing from the lake of being curved. Sand torrent pushes us in every direction blinded.
We hold on to the cactus that reminds us of how to flourish, bear fruits, multiply and spread out tentacles.
Optimistic that the annual stranger of the wasteland.
Will bring about a few dips of a downpour,
reasonable to bring out the scent in our muscles.
The strongest vessels ever made, our mothers’ daughters.
Resilient with mystical super-powers, we are unapologetically who we are.
Cueing those who have relinquished hope;
That beauty can be created anywhere,
We are the Sahara desert flowers.
Happy Mother’s Day🌹