Mother Sietkiewicz’ Wisdom.

She, with the white, candy-floss hair

and the softest palms I’ve ever held;

with the the speckled, green-grey eyes

which smile in agreement with the upturned corners
of a mouth
 that only speaks loving wisdom.



She’s my mum. 



She is the woman

with the farmer’s work ethic

running deep in her veins, 

hiding just beneath the veil

of a teachers desk, and a blackboard,

raising crops of young minds

with fresh ideas to feed a hungry world,

in starving need for change.



She’s the one. 


Patient, kind, 

neither boastful, or proud

she is trusting, understanding 

and decades less irritable

than her darling daughter…



With empathy for injustice,

she delights in the deafening bells of truth being rung,

reverberating through the moment,
as she never gives up,

holding on to deep faith, with a heart full of hope

to receive a new day.



She’s my mum.

She’s the one.

With the candy floss hair,

the softest palms I’ve ever held,

and I love her.

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