Here I am sitting on my bed

Looking out of these burglar windows, why, why me, a mother?

Questions without answers

Eyes filled with tears looking at the dancing trees in the wind

Heart bleeding uncontrollably

Mind full of sorrows

Ears missing the callings: mama, mamie, ti mase, sweetheart, my love

Mother’s heart missing to her loved ones

Tears are our daily bread

Regrets are our cup of tea

Our smiles have become fake

In the middle of our journey, we come into the dark wood

How does it feel for a mothers’ heart?

Any second, minute, hour, day, week, year- sorrow fills mothers’ hearts

It is not a pleasant feeling

Sorry my loved ones, I didn’t mean to hurt you

Sorry for every time you think of me

I am truly sorry, set me free in your minds

A mother’s prayer

This is a poem compiled by Yvonne Peter, a 47-year-old inmate at the Windhoek Female Correctional Facility