“Your paradise is in the feet of your mother”
I begin this poem with a body of prayer: Robbī ifadh ummī. & this is how I curl every mantra on my tongue into a ball of whispers—for my driver into this space.
How shall I compare her tenderous palms
That held me back from slipping
Into the ocean of disingenuous gloom?
Mother is a conjurer of glad tidings.
within her heart lies a perforated glory of a paved street, & a restful solace where I reside during the season of austere melancholy.
Say mother is a rose that scents of reviving relics.
A body of light that illumines the path I tread in dark(er) moments.
A revered god whose palm grooves warm my blood with a touch of Jannat—
A name I hope to christen my daughter when she is born. I mean, mother is a piece of prolific land that breeds robust corns: I, my siblings, are the plants mother nurtures & waters with Affluence.
Robbī ihfadh ummī ! This is how I pray for my mother – her frail body – when she finally withers into the night breeze.
~
**Robbī ihfadh ummī: An Arabic prayer for God’s safety on the poet’s mother.
Abdulrozaq Fholarin
Abdulrozaq Fholarin (Abdulrozaq Taslim Alade) is a child-poet, who hails from the south-western part of Nigeria and muses on events like the loneliness of man; the wonders of the earth; paradox of life and death, and introspection. He studies linguistics and African languages at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ilé-ifè. When he is not writing, he reads poems or academic books, or recedes to his part-time teaching job, or engages in seeing the liveliness of nature. Reach him on Twitter @Afholarin.
