My Impoverished Mother Poem by Stephanie Apila

sleeping is an act for the rich
those who have nothing to do anymore
the ones whose accounts are satisfied
with pregnant wallets, they awoke daily.
the rich have no worries, not like ours.
sure, money sorts everything for them

My mother's mind never rests
her brain booms day and night
to her, the night and day carry the same burden
with three children to feed and school
she flies from one place to the other
from where she toils to earn every shilling
the hands of my mother never rest
and neither do her toes.
STEPHANIE APILA