I used to be very beautiful.
You see, I have seven sisters.
I’m the only one with children.
The rest have naught the joys of motherhood.
They are colourful but barren.
I’m the only one among us,
Who has ever borne life.
I’m gifted and blessed,
I think I’m the Sun’s favourite wife.
I used to be like my sisters,
Just normal-looking and bare.
I once had but dry complexion,
And uninteresting dull hair.
But then I became a mother,
And everything about me,
Turned lush and admirable.
I was filled with sheer beauty.
Yes, I was so beautiful.
I had awesome hair to feel,
Such a comfy place to be.
Whether warm or cool,
When needed I could deliver readily.
I had all my children needed,
My breasts were like springs of the prairie,
Never failing to quench the thirst,
Of my children whom I love dearly.
Nurturing my lovely kids,
Day-by-day I’ve been here.
I get new ones all the time,
Each minute, each day, each year.
I used to be very beautiful.
I used to stand proud for all to see,
The beauty my children were giving me.
But they became increasingly,
More hungry and more greedy.
I’ve always had enough,
And everything used to be for free.
But now many have more than most.
And some go hungry as you see.
Look at where my hair used to be.
My lush hair which used to shine.
It’s now a balding field of agony,
Specks and bits of what once was divine.
My milk now still does flow,
But it is pure no more.
Too much bitter poison is in it now,
Not the sweet, sacred taste it once bore.
Yes, my children have done this to me,
But I love them all the same.
What else can a loving mother do?
I gave them life, their bodies, their name.
Am I angry about all this?
No, I can tell you that.
I love wholeheartedly,
Without anger, even for the biggest brat.
I trust that my children will,
Take care of me once more.
And see to it that I heal,
And regain the beauty and life I had once before.
