The Seeds That Bore Fruit (For my Mother)

That your family could thrive
And live without strife
You woke up at cock crow
Your task was to hoe
The dew-soaked fields
Before sunrise and dusk

You were a widow
With a farmer’s faith and patience
Who sowed good seeds
In the fertile soil
In due season
And prayed for the heavens
To water your back-breaking toil

Mother, you planted good seeds
Of hard work and determination
In the furrows of my mind
Mother, you were one of a kind
Who taught me about good deeds
Who taught me to uproot weeds
Who taught me to harvest good yields

Though you never lived stronger
Though you never lived longer
To witness the harvest in me

This poem is for you;
Thank you for baking me
Your son is now a cooked bun,
Thank you for planting
Good seeds that took root
Thank you for the nurturing done
Your son is a ripe mango tree
That bears succulent fruit.