My Mother Poem by basim al aoda

My mother


My mother likes sad nesses,
From the previous epochs and times,
She hangs them on walls –
And distributes them upon neighbors,
Puts on a black mourning,
She lives with privation,
Her heart is harbor to the fatherlands,
The straying resorts to her,
On her face furrows are drawn by the age,
The hereafter tired her,
She loves the graves visiting,
And tearful,
When she died –
No one visits her,
These are calamities,
In complete story.

Basim AlAoda
2008 July