An Ode to Mama Ilesa of over One Hundred Years
She was here before the highways,
before the satellites and screens,
before the world decided it knew everything —
she already did.
One hundred years of rising before dawn, of hands that stirred and soothed and built,
of a back that bent but never broke,
of a voice that held the family together like the spine in a well-worn book.
She has buried grief and still cooked dinner.
She has laughed at things that would break us.
She has prayed with a conviction so solid the walls of the room still carry it.
We are not made of our degrees or our titles …we are made of her.
Her patience runs in our veins like water, her stubbornness like iron,
her love like the old songs: long, and not entirely explainable.
A century and still she watches us
with those eyes that have seen enough to forgive almost anything,
and wisdom enough to forgive the rest.
What is a hundred years?
It is her, unhurried, undefeated,
seated at the head of the table
like time itself came to celebrate her.
Written by Abiola Falusi
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