Mama - To Lob Poem by Thabani Khumalo

To LOB from a tin mine - there we migrated.
Sunny days, cold days, colds and flu,
festivities and cheers,
embraced all the time in mom's loving arms.

Sad days gone by
infusing lug in thoughts,
we sat put in the house
and watched mama plan nothing strategically
but all in a prompt,
almost similar smiles we had as those rich kids
on a Christmas day,
making jolly noise in the dust in brand new apparel.

From the hard-earned pay,
mama bought us food -
Form all her mistakes;
her tumbles and falls, she built up resolve.
The pitiful bitter blame,
loud cries and sobs,
a prayer of revenge
or a single teardrop -
that mama never had,
she'd rather split a clot -
a heavy clot of blood
paying our school fees
on social welfare.

The flimsy fears of a child;
the fear of the shadows in the night,
I had tons of those in my childhood mind,
but when my mama had my back
my heart would cease to gallop.
She was stronger than a man -
a superman of the action bio scope.