I saw somebody's mama today,
Clad in over-sized sea foam green sweat pants
That bagged at her ankles;
Cloaked in a teal duster coat
That enveloped her lanky frame.
She trudged aimlessly up the subway's platform
With a rusty shopping cart piled high
Of worldly possessions.
Her grimacing look and million mile stare
Persuaded me that she had weathered many a storm
And withstood many a door slammed in her face.
Somebody's mama treks on -
Too proud to beg; too scared to steal;
Too stubborn to cry; too weak to fight.
She is somebody's mama;
She can be anybody's mama;
Within, she is everybody's mama -
Bearer-possibly to kings, presidents and priests;
Prayer warrior and burden-bearer.
Though rarely for herself, she is mama,
Igniting passion in us all.
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