Whispers from a Mother’s Spirit: A Heavenly Hymn.

This poem is for those whose mothers have slipped beyond the veil, whose hands now brush the stars, yet linger in the soul’s soft trail. A mother’s love is Godlike, pure and real a compass when the world grows cold, a light no shadow can conceal.

When tears carve rivers down your cheeks, she comes, though not in flesh, but whispers through the hums of wind or song or memory’s gentle pull. Her touch remains invisible, but full. She knows your heart’s unspoken, tangled storms, the ache you cloak in silence, brave uniforms.

Distance nor time can dull her sacred thread; a mother’s instinct spans the realms of breath. And though her voice no longer fills the air, don’t grieve she’s woven in your pulse, your prayer. A guardian angel dressed in twilight’s grace, she walks beside you, every step you trace.

So speak her name when shadows dim your sight. Invoke her spirit in the still of night. Watch how the unseen guides your path, your tears how love transcends the boundaries of years.

For mothers never leave. They rise, they gleam, as constellations in your grief’s vast stream. Raise your hands to heaven’s endless blue…

“Happy Heavenly Mother’s Day I feel you.” -Richman Mthembu (Tycoon)