12/05/2024
_She Is Mother_♡
Her skin wounded, tearing, bleeding, pouring in unison with the Lamb of God; she suffers with Him to birth a new life, honey and oil in our marrow.
The Lion of Judah roaring within her contracting bowels, “MY. CHILD. MUST. LIVE.”
In her 11th hour, she heeds the pang of the ripened fruit within her; Her own Garden of Gethsemane, blood and tears seething from skin, her body crushed for the sake of new wine unto the Lord; her child, an offering unto Him.
She is the ark of the covenant; glory throbbing within her bones as she gives birth to God’s worship upon the earth. She is not to be mishandled.
She is mother; her water breaking, her body struck like the rock in the wilderness; she is Noah’s vessel upon tempestuous floods hiding us within her chest.
She is the resilience of Esther, “If I die, I die; if I perish, I perish…”
She is mother; weary eyes like Prophetess Anna, sanctifying herself until prophecy was fulfilled; she is Jochebed placing Moses amidst the waves, “You will live and not die, my son.”
She is mother; whilst I wear the mask of sleep, I feel her tiny hands anointing my head with oil; I hear her praying and I catch myself pondering upon her lovesick tears.
She is mother; calloused hands, tiger stripes upon her stomach, pot burns decorating her skin in the strangest places, her body a testament of utter giveness unto ruination, the flower of youth trampled to release a fragrance.
She is Sarah’s laughter echoing in tents of forgotten dreams; but I say to you, Arise upon the walls, precious brides; blow the trumpet of the Bridegroom, preach, write, evangelise, sing, dance, paint and cry aloud in the barren land for surely it is not too late to birth your Isaac.
Sister Angie’s, _“Baby, you look so sweet today!"_
Sister Grant’s devoted attendance even with a limp,
Sister Harvey’s shining gold teeth, a replica of her heart;
Sister Delia's boss Jamaican dumpling and red beans;
Sister Okelyan's tender dedication to Baby Zaheer;
Sister St. Claire’s turban hiding wisdom aplenty;
Sister George’s hands hitting my shoulders with love every Sunday;
Sister Candice's cut eye full of love;
Sister Fournillier tender faithfulness like Mary;
Sister Gabriel like a determined lioness for the sake of organisation;
Minister Patrice’s willingness to carry mountains;
Sister Allen’s genuine heart for serving even when tired;
Sister Ovita’s instant, _“You get something to eat, baby?”_
Sister Josette’s wittiness all whilst having a heart for justice;
Sister Tessa’s unbelievable creative capacity to create beauty with her hands;
Sister Mary’s vintage style;
Sister Theola’s fashion prowess,
Sister Brittany, the human version of “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou,
Sister Clee’s food that will make you dance, her humorous love all the same;
Sister Kitra’s gentle, soft voice;
Sister Nickema's childlike giggle as she blocks her face to smile;
Sister Allison’s joy bursting from deep within (I don't know where she gets it);
Sister Avella’s beautiful, hungry heart for the Holy Spirit;
Sis. Boyce’s sweet, cheekiness;
Sister Mars untouchable sunglasses collection;
Sister Sylos' silver hair like the moon;
Sister Felix's warm hugs, _"How yuh going darling?"_
Sister Deborah's tender heart bring mami apples and mangoes for us every Sunday;
Pastor Zelia's unmatched faith and perseverance, I've never seen another like it.
What is a mother? I’m not sure I’m qualified to say…but her offkey singing sounds like home, her cut eye makes me laugh, her prayers make me sob, her Deborah-like tendencies keep me alert. For many years, she was mother and father…and she did not fail. My heart skips a beat when I can't find her in her usual hiding spot on a Saturday morning. A mother is the one who will let you disturb her shower to crack a joke or make a complaint. The one who has cried with me in a doctor's office to let me know I wasn't alone. She calls me her promised child, but truly she's the promise that came before me.
She is mother; she has a past, she has weaknesses, she is someone's daughter, friend, sister...she is human, she is imperfect, she is the love of Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
To the birth mothers, mothers by adoption, surrogate mothers, mothers who have lost children, the teachers, mentors and all who exude the beauty and courage of maternal love.
You are never unnoticed; happy mother’s day to the fairest in the land; you are altogether lovely.
With Love
~K. Roberts❣️
