Hidden Labor

 

 

The night before a new beginning
Ama begins her routine
the same one she has kept
since the dawn of my childhood:
strict, unforgiving,
yet burning with love.

5:00 A.M.
Of the sacrifices she made,
of the silent sobs she buried before the sun rose,
of the unmarked graves
of dreams she laid to rest.

6:00 A.M.
I wake filled with sunlight
from every morning shout
when I was late for school,
from every kusi for skipping breakfast,

7:00 A.M.
I am built by the hidden labor of my Ama
a freshly ironed uniform,
clean white socks folded neatly,
and a plate waiting
scrambled eggs
or sunny-side up.

8:00 A.M.
Today I graduate.
Not only because I passed my exams,
but because my Ama

ever a patient and loving being
spent her life
so that mine could begin.

9:00 A.M.
On the morning of my new beginning,
my Ama is still in the kitchen,
still cooking me breakfast.


Written by Samuel Harry Adlaon
Art by Jazztine Eve Paragoso