Goddess

I’ve not had the privilege of laying eyes on her,
Of connecting the wrinkles on her face, like an atlas, with corresponding life journeys,
Each line representing a birth, a death, laughter, sadness, joy, sorrow and solitude.

I have not had the fortune of embracing her petite figure
Of taking-in her enchanting scent; a mixture of spices and lilies
And transfusing my aura with hers

I have not had the opportunity to hold her worn fragile hands in mine
To thank her for her years of servitude, cooking, cleaning, sewing, and petting.
Hands I yearn to bring to my lips and kiss gently.

Her beauty radiates like rays of sunshine on shimmery waters
Her mystery engulfs me like an omnipotent spell
And her story penetrates through my layers of ego

Sleepless nights fretting about how to provide
Endless days swallowing the lump in her throat and putting on a brave face
A lifetime of raising curious, mischievous boys single-handedly.

All the while she caught a glimmer or two of her beloved in them
Powerful blows that threw her back in time
And yet energized her and reminded her of her mission.

Her hard work is coming to fruition
Her boy is at the gate of manhood
And I am on the other end beckoning him

There may be struggles but there will be no battle
When I see you, I see the infinite potential for reaching
My own depths and heights of womanhood

I am at your feet quivering with love and tenderness
and soaring with elation and pride.
For in you I see the female face of God