A simple gesture

In the middle of
An ocean of bitterness,
Despair,
And fear,
Which,
Like a rising tide,
Assail the world;

In the middle of
Infernal noise coming from
Tractors,
Pneumatic drills,
Tipper trucks,
Roaring
And striking;

In the middle of
Hassle
Of driving
On a
Potholed pavement,
In one-way street,
Changed to two-way;

A small gesture,
A simple gesture
Is able
To cheer me up:
A man,
In a hurry,
Leaves behind him
His little boy,
A chubby-cheeked little angel,
Gamboling.

Into the Jamaican bakery,
The man dives,
To get into line,
And in the first row.

A black woman,
A monumental being,
Seemingly carved from granite,
At the doorway,
Was ready to leave,
Happy,
With a bag,
Full of good warm loaves,
When the little boy,
A chubby-cheeked little angel
Gamboling,
Runs into
The female stomach.

The black woman,
A monumental being,
Seemingly carved from granite,
With her huge,
But velvety palm,
Strokes the child’s head
And gently pushes
The little boy,
A chubby-cheek little angel
Gamboling
Toward his father,
Unaware of the gesture.

It’s,
In the middle of an ocean of
Bitterness,
And the hassle
Of driving,
A simple gesture,
Through which,
Proclaims
The black woman,
A monumental being,
Seemingly carved from the granite:
“Don’t be afraid of me,
My angel,
My son,
I am your mother,
As I am the mother of mankind.
Really,
I am,
I don’t lie,
You must believe me.

Throughout my female ancestors,
I’ve carried in my bosom,
And I’ve rocked
Generations
Of little boys like you,
And also little girls,
Of all skin nuances,
Of all tendencies,
Of all conditions.

So, I am the mother of mankind,
I am your mother,
I am the mother of your father,
You understand the reason why,
With my motherly hand,
I stroke you,
And I touch your hair.

Don’t be afraid of me,
I am the mother of mankind,
Really, I am."