I was mothered by the storm.
Held in its arms as it whirled round and round.
No peaceful shore did I embrace
Until my brow had grown so wild
And acrid tears had dried unwiped
I was mothered by the storm so fierce.
Its passion beats beneath my ribs.
A rhythm none but I can dance
So judge me not, oh ones so soft
Who unlike me were mothered by hands of love
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Published by SELASIE BULMUO
Writing - It is the air I breathe. I listen to Life (Inhale) and I breathe and write (exhale). Sometimes I masquerade as, Mum, Wife, Qualified Social Worker, Counsellor/Pastor. I love to build people up using words.
"My blog selasiebulmuo.wordpress.com is a step to share my private passion in a public forum in hopes that I can challenge you to be the best you. Let my words be a bridge to the otherside of the great chasm. Life awaits you there. Fill the gap. Be INSPIRED".
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This is a moving poem. I think that those who have had to fight for their place will relate too! Thank you for sharing! Hugs.
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Hello Liz! I have missed you so much. Yes, many of us are living lives shaped by our past experiences and upbringing. We are often hard wired to relate the way we do with life and with others. I have seen so many neglected and abused children and the ‘stormy’ environment within which they are being raised. Yet they cling to their parents and live them so intensely in a way only they understand. A bit sad really.
So good to have you back Liz. I will be visiting your blog as soon as I get a minute.
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