EIGHTY-SIX HEARTY CHEERS
A BIRTHDAY WISH FOR
“THE GRANDE MOTHER MARY NEMA BROWNELL”
By Matenneh-Rose L. Dunbar
A count of twenty…and lots of grounds covered
A rugged walk from childhood to stateswomanship
A bright light that illuminates many dark crevices
A pillar rung deep in the earth that still towers firmly
A friendly wind that blows and lighten heavy loads
A tint of the golden setting sun through grey skies
Eight-six hearty cheers
A count of forty….and her leadership will struck
A child of potency build from timbers of fine wood
A patriot of heroism forged for a place of amazons
A tall hut set in the town center to bring us together
A bucket that draws wisdom in the wells of knowledge
A warmth once experienced creates endless yearning
Eighty-six hearty cheers
A count of sixty…and the platforms is loud for freedom
A walk with the ruthless for the sake of a people peace
A plead for the tears of mothers who stood on frontlines
A riot to feed hungry babies with eyes frail from hunger
A voice alone on the rocks of ducor for innocent blood
A sweet mother with a legacy which perfumes beautifully
Eighty-six hearty cheers
A count of eighty… and the songs are still being trumpeted
A happy great great grand with a smile that costs millions
A blessing to a younger root who roost near her galaxy
A presence of faithfulness to even the smallest of ideas
A purple velvet flown on the sails of our ship still in sail
A feminine fort for the rights of the girls to be born yet
WE DECORATE WITH TEARS
By Matenneh-Rose L. Dunbar
On pathless steel grasped concrete slabs
Many busied to weep out grown loose grass
That sprouts notoriously in the cement beds
It is another day to sit and reflect out loss
Many souls fell in the wake of the evil plague
We decorate with tears
On roads we shall never see or know ever
Mansions watched as the sick were ferried
That in white suits all protected from harm
It is a story of pain as we shriveiled in fear
May the wounded find solace in Jesus
We decorate with tears
On dusty paths that leads to huge farms
Motorist fled for the lack of what was true
Turning dangerously at the sound of Ebola
Ice cold feeling entrapped communities daily
May we never come by this horror again
We decorate with tears
On heights of wood the die was cast
Mothers fathers sons daughters aunts uncles
Taken to a place not heard of before this death
Isolated far from the care of dear loved ones
May God save the land and have mercy
