Many Mothers

[An elegy on the death of a city.]

In faith, I am the offspring of

Not one, but many mothers:

Each one of whom helped in my upbringing

One way or the other.

I used to live in several parts,

One mother made me whole;

One mother gave me a beating heart,

Another gave me a soul.

One mother, she educated me,

She taught me all I know;

One mother more, she fed me so

I did healthy grow.

One other set up businesses,

So I could be employed;

And yet another built houses, so

Of homes, I wasn’t devoid.

They made me who I am, through

Contributions big and small;

I love my mothers, I love them

Equally, I love them all.

My mothers love me back, but they don’t

Love my other mothers;

They all cling on tight to me like

I were only hers.

Two mothers catch my legs, and

Two others grab my hair-

They all pull me towards themselves

As if I were only theirs.

My mothers, they all bicker, trying

To prise the others’ hand;

They send their wrists and their fists flying,

Of which many on me land.

They riot, and they hurl abuses,

They fight over my name-

I die not because of my bruises,

Oh, I die of shame.