she is

shrivelled and wrinkled she stands looking out into the deserted, desolate compound
her womb has created many and her slender frame has bore the brunt of poverty.
she has been mother nine times
her house was once the definition of joy, many wars were fought in the hut, the one which is now roofless. giggles, laughter crying could be heard throughout the house.life was blissful. when she finally slept after tucking in nine little souls it was a half slumber. she was constantly on the lookout -a scream there of one having a nightmare-a soft sigh there of peaceful sleep after a hard day at play- a murmur there and a tirade of gibberish from another as they sleep talked.
she was acutely aware of the sound and would be awake instantly to investigate every sound

is this why she looks tired from all those years of sleepless nights.
now they are gone and have forgotten , they now live in castles and have eaten books and are too proud to be associated with her.
grandchildren complain because of the lack of hygiene in her house
but look at her children
fit, healthy and strong like stallions
what is wrong with a dirty house she thinks that shows life.how can there be children in a house and it remains clean she muses.
none have thanked her for their success
but many have been quick to blame her for their misfortunes
YET she continues to love, to pray and face out into the compound.hopeful that one day they shall come back.