BEST MEMORIES OF A MOTHER (Rasamindrakotroka Andry Tiana)

Nine months she bore, in silence and in grace,
A growing love no time could ever erase;
Through sleepless nights, through quiet, watchful care,
And days of hope, of tenderness laid bare.

O Mother—guardian of our first unsure stride,
The one who lifts us, ever at our side;
She dries our tears, she soothes each restless cry,
And sings soft songs that let our sorrows fly.

She may correct, yet always out of love,
To guide, to teach, with patience from above;
She opens life in all it dares to be,
Its joys, its wounds, its quiet mystery.

She watches, wonders, worries, yet goes on,
She falls, she rises—never truly gone;
She shapes our paths with tireless, careful hands,
And stands again, whatever life demands.

She comforts, pardons, gives without refrain,
Within her arms, all trembling fades from pain;
She heals, restores, and gathers every part,
Pouring her time and life into our hearts.

To be a mother—this, and far beyond,
A boundless tenderness, a sacred bond;
A cherished soul who gives, yet asks no return,
A living flame that time can never burn.

And now she walks where heaven’s light is cast,
Yet keeps her watch as in the days long past;
A guardian still, though unseen by our eyes,
Her children’s joy in her own spirit lies.

RASAMINDRAKOTROKA Andry Tiana
19 April 2025
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