No matter how much she bends her back, it will never break.
No matter how far she walks her legs are never weary, her feet are never sore.
Her hands are never idle, hardened with years of toil and labour.
The sun beats down, harsh and hard, but she never wavers.
The rains come, the sky cries its heart out, constant consistent droplets coming down relentlessly, but she is unperturbed.
She gets home and goes down on her knees, thanking God, not just for the day, but for a day well spent, only he can crown her effort with success.
The harvest comes.
Oh, the joy of harvest, Ayo Ikore. She sowed in tears, and reaps in tears also, tears of joy, she is jubilant, ecstatic, her hard work has paid off.
She is a strong woman, she is in fact a special breed of strong woman, she is an African woman.
I couldn’t think of any single thing to write this night. I don’t know if it was due to writer’s block or lack of inspiration, it could even have been a blend of both and I remembered this, it was featured on my friend’s blog in September. Check her out, you wont be sorry: http://www.chaviva4christ.wordpress.com
🍔 Cheeseburger out.