tears of the moon,
lungs breath out
smoke of ecstasy,
from dying flames,
burning desires
to leave ashes of sun

The time I felt tummy hurts
Those that needn't the doctor
Those of hunger strikes in me
I clinged to worry for myself
Before my life discovery.
Was too used to pizza and burgers
Nothing from my own homeland
Though in my search I fell in a direction
An improved variety tabled for us
Down the table I sat, not popular to the world but my tummy signed in
Lost my taste buds to only this
To that I ate like a hired thief in full bites
The bells of Hawaiian, becon, chicken, sausage, all for One
  A Rollecks.....
Marked my anniversary of love for snacks
The place whose memory runs in my blood
The Ugandan Nemo's,
Imprisoned my love for Rollecks
One of a kind shared without regrets

Lions rarely climb trees
Except for western Uganda

Languidly resting
Limbs dangle in repose

Recovering from  
The ferocity of chase

Panting and roar
Conquer and surrender

I think you and I
Are in Western Uganda

Teeming with stealthy vigor
And sleeping in trees

You move in slow motion
Like there’s no urgency
Yet you cause a commotion
When Muzungo pass you in the street

You speak so softly
We miss what you’re saying
Until we enter town centre
Where you expect us to be paying

It’s contradictory
We sometimes are relaxed
Welcomed and absorbed

But the stress picks up heat
When we’re heckled
Grabbed and yelled at

Yet somehow even with this invite
We never want to leave

We all die, at different paces,
ages, genders, cultures and races.

If someone asked you if you were happy,
could you say yes?
Some say "of course" at best,
but is it sincere?
Would you still say it in a polygraph test?
Did you really mean it,
or did you second guess?

We all die, at different paces,
ages, genders, cultures and races.

Inconceivable, but Inevitable
in the back of my mind and yours.
They call life a game,
but who keeps the scores?

She has fought through illness and heart pain.
She has seen tragedies, time and again.
She risked her own life so I could be born.
Not listening to the doctors who said to abort.
She has stood through life's trials,
and has come out stronger.
She is my Mother, the Fighter.

She has questioned God.
But her faith has not faltered.
She has placed herself in His hands,
for however long He gives her.
She is my Mother, the Fighter.

She is gentle-spirited, yet a warrior.
She is quiet, yet bold.
She is my Mother, the Fighter.

And she is still fighting.
She has endured long.
And continues to endure.
Whatever comes.
Her story will be told.
To future generations.
I will tell her story.
Her legacy of faith.
For I am her daughter,
and I love her.
She is my Mother, the Fighter.
With her Faithful God behind her.