Another Mother’s Day is quickly approaching and my thoughts
are on the mothers who raised me; my biological mother, my grandmother, my
aunties and the many older women that have mentored me along the way; they are
countless and each hold a special place in my heart. I have been a mother now
for 15 years and it is by far the toughest job I’ve been tasked with. It’s also
a role that continues to grow me, teach me, strengthen me and motherhood continuously
challenges me. I would say the challenges are because I operate a single parent
household, but that’s not it. I would say it’s because I’m raising my youngest child
whose biological father has abandoned her, but that’s not it either. The challenges
come with raising children to respect, honor and love themselves and others
unconditionally; not allowing anyone to take advantage of them. The challenges
come from making sure that they are well educated, active and occupied. The
challenges come from ensuring that they are safe, healthy and supported. The
challenges come from trying to be the best possible parent to them that we know
how, while coping with our own unresolved issues.
My thoughts are also on the many fathers that are raising
children where the mothers are absent, the fathers that struggle with grooming
their little girl’s hair, but try they best and keep it moving. My thoughts are
on countless grandparents raising children, hats off to you. My thoughts are on
the women whom lost their children in the womb, after birth and to the streets,
my heart cries out with yours. Raising children takes conscious effort; it’s a testament
to our unselfishness as parents; putting their needs before our own.
The past few weeks I’ve been quiet and I can’t put my finger
on it. My mood has been slightly pensive, in a good way. As a mother, I miss
the mark often and I’ve been exploring two very tough questions that I never
thought to ask myself before; “What did I miss and How did I miss it,” relating
to several situations that caused me pain beyond belief. Maybe these questions
have caused my quietness. Some of us love to criticize our peers concerning the
way we raise our children, but truth be told, not one of us have any room to do
so, which doesn’t stop us, but we need to be careful about that. We all do our
best and sometimes our best isn’t good enough and that’s just the reality of it
all. In exploring the “what did I miss and how” I hope to become enlightened, recognizing
what do to differently next time, that’s all I can do.
This mother’s day, send love and light to the many mothers
you know, the many fathers you know raising children without the help of the
mother, your aunts, grandmothers, and your sister friends; especially those who
are hoping to conceive.
Wishing you a very special and hopeful mother’s day, with
love,
~Shamina
THE RHYTHM
The rhythm is in my being
Wrapped up in every fiber I was
created with
My womb was created to procreate
What’s between my inner thighs is
more than an opening for you to come inside
The rhythm was placed in my bosom
Hearty
Beating
Blood pumping to be a mother
Not for you to use and abuse
My soul was not for me to taint
with distasteful morality
The rhythm is in my innateness to
nurture
To love unconditionally trusting
blindly
Sexed to oblivion and left with
resentment stained on my sheets
Savaged violently as if I were a
piece of meat
The rhythm lies in my throne to
which I am queen
Esteemed with royalty and crowned
You were dethroned as I’ve come
into my own
Kingdom of motherhood I own
