If it wasn’t for the sun that shines upon the frosty grass every morning,
I wouldn’t be waking up to new opportunities that arise and pave the way to where I am yet to be. Across the furthest ocean and beyond what you call “your imagination” and way above what you see when you look at me.
If it wasn’t for my mother’s continuous prayers,
I wouldn’t be defeating the odds every day; winning battles I am unaware of and clothed in everlasting security.
If it wasn’t for what I thought was love at a tender age, I wouldn’t be willing to give love wholeheartedly even when it is not deserved or petitioned for.
If it wasn’t for the daring negativity and motivational rejection that I receive with every attempt,
I wouldn’t be hungry and fighting for what is mine.
If it wasn’t for the womb that carried, nurtured and oh so beautifully moulded a seed for what is medically referred to as 3 trimesters,
I wouldn’t be a mother nor understand the depth of her love and how far deep from her heart everything she does comes from.
If it wasn’t for the late Martha More who filled a void that I believed was too empty, too vast, too large and too impossible to fill.
I wouldn’t be as strong and as complete as I am today.
If it wasn’t for this pen that I put on paper or keyboard and screen that enable me to type,
I wouldn’t be the writer that I am.
By Rethabile Khunyeli