Mother of all Mothers,
I know the pain remains
from having your ripened fruit
plucked from your womb.
I know your misery
is the result of depression,
not a curse of overwhelming doom.
Your children were taught to forget you.
Told your ways were primitive.
The only link that remains
is the royalty in the color of their skin.
They can not communicate with you
cause they have never danced
to the sweet rhythm of your drums.
Their cries to you went unanswered
because they spoke in foreign tongues.
They have never fully recovered.
Only a Mother's love
could soften an orphaned heart.
I know the heartache it has caused you.
I see it slowly tearing you apart.
Watching your children abused
on distant shores
would scorn any mother.
So you live with the pain
caused by your first born
when he exiled his sisters
and sold his brothers.
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