Wednesday, February 4, 2009



Speaking about mother, it is no doubt that we speak about our own roots, our own origins.

If there had not been the presence of a mother, how could we appear and exist, and dance with joy on the stages of our Planet Earth?

Along with our fathers, our beloved mothers took us with a blanket of love from the palace of God wholeheartedly. She took and brought us to the jungle of the world. She was not tired of seeing us flourish, and also she was not tired of seeing us extend our twigs and perch everywhere.

We cannot measure at all the suffering of a mother. We cannot return the favor of a mother at all until we die, until we become dust again.

As someone who bore us in the world, she does not ask us for many things. As someone who suffered a lot for us, what she only asks is our whole offering of love back to her. As someone who has given all her life when bearing us, she really wants us not to be lazy in drying her tears when she cries.

The love of a mother is an endless one. The love of a mother is a heavenly one. The love of a mother is the love of time immemorial.

Mothers are like springs, flowing day and night. The water of those springs is crystal clear, and very beautiful. The swollen wounds we have can be massaged with the spring water. The swollen wounds we have will be healed by its magic power.

With all the love they offer us, mothers create harmony, with all the love they spread, mothers create peace, and with all the love they foster, mothers create tranquility within every household.

A mother’s presence in our world with all the fragility she has moves her to utter her voice. Hers is a golden one. Hers is a soft one. Hers is a compassionate one, often times singing in the space of sublime truth.

*) It was originally written in Tetum, and broadcasted as a reflection piece for a show of RTTL in 2006.

1 comment:

loroana said...

Mulher timorense

Carregas no olhar
os azuis das montanhas,
onde as lágrimas secaram
e esperas…
esperas que regressem
aqueles que pereceram
às mãos dos ocupantes.
Sentada no tear
teces a tais
e silenciosa continuas a aguardar
que o teu filho, o teu pai, o teu irmão
voltem para casa,
porque a libertação já chegou!

Mulher timorense
com muito carinho
ergues altares e acendes velas
levas flores aos teus mortos:
ao Manelito,
ao Adelino,
e a tantos outros que pereceram…

Mas tu MULHER Timorense
com tuas mãos vais construir uma Nação!!

Palmira Marques