La Belleza de La Mujer
by
Iyan Igma
La belleza de la mujer
No se halla en suavedad
Ni la carne que se arrugle,
Sino en la maternidad.
Pues, todos los años sus hijos
Van a buscar alguien así
Quien les trate con ternura
Mientras pica como ají,
Que celebre su nulidad,
Tenga misericordiosa actitud,
Y les cuide al enfermar.
Pero ¡ay de la juventud!
Porque jamás vayan a encontrar a
Un ángel tan bondadosa
Porque solamente una madre
Será tan milagrosa.
A Fit Gift
by
Iyan Igma
What’s fit for the birthday of the one
Who gave her own life to give me mine;
Who labored that I might see the world
And enjoy the kiss of the sunshine;
Who was my very first teacher,
Teaching me love through tender care,
By feeding me and changing diapers,
Putting me to sleep rubbing my hair;
Who strained her back to pick me up;
Who tickled my feet and rib cage;
Who gave me butterfly kisses;
Who wrote on my mind’s blank page
The impressions of ethics and morals
And the lessons none else could teach;
Who fostered my language and learning,
And taught me my goals were in reach;
Who cared for me more than herself,
And encouraged me to be the best;
Who was my emotional pillar;
Whose genes gave me strength and zest;
Who loved me when unlovable,
And was my friend continuously;
Whose greatest possible happiness
Was to find me fully happy;
Who tended me when I was sick
And healed my wounds with her kiss;
Who worked hard to provide shelter,
Clothing, food, and the whole list
Of basic needs; Who took the time
To scare monsters and demons away;
Who answered my questions faithfully
And taught me how to pray;
Who’ll never give up on me,
Despite my worst attitude?
Is there a gift that I can give
To express a lifetime of gratitude?
Shall I buy her a Wal-Mart gift card?
Will a trinket or bauble suffice?
How about cheap perfume located
Near thoughtless gift sets of Old Spice?
Maybe she’d like some plastic flowers
Or a cheap cubic zirconia ring?
Even if I spent a million dollars,
I’d miss the most important thing:
She doesn’t care what gifts I buy,
Though the thought will make her smile,
Instead she only wants to know
My life is heading somewhere worthwhile.
She wants to know that I’m progressing,
Building self-confidence and esteem,
For the greatest gift to give a mother
Is knowing her child’s reached his dream.
Heavenly Mothers
by
Iyan Igma
I owe a store of gratitude
To both my Heavenly Mothers,
Who both decided to have me,
Though they could have had their druthers.
One of these ma’ams is mortal,
Although I count her heavenly,
Since she gave her life to have me
And has tried to live worthily.
She answered all my three year old
Questions, which always began, “Why?”
She taught me to love to read good
Books. She taught me to multiply.
She sacrificed so very much
As a widow and single mom
To care for my sisters and I.
She e’en helped me prepare for prom—
Well, as best as one can prepare.
I’m her product genetically.
But I had a mother before,
Who begot me spiritually.
We hear so little about her,
And I remember nothing of
What she was like and taught to me.
But sometimes I can feel her love.
There’s a bond that children share with
Their mothers that will never die.
I’ll see her anew when my life
Ends in the twinkling of an eye.
I’m sure she’ll tell my mother “Thank
You,” and, “Now you know how it feels.
He deserved many more spankings.
How’d you manage to stay off pills?”
