Link: Mother


The phone rings for seconds on end,

My patience drains out at the other end,

At what seems like the last ring,

A familiar voice; but sounds way too different,

Cheerless and tired, not in for a chit chat

My friend, a mother, her dear child fallen sick,

Her voice, a connotation of her child’s ailment,

Her heart, heavy with her child’s anguish


Mothers, they carry burdens, of their children,

Many a baggage from their past and present,

Worries for the future, for days trouble-free,

Mothers, with an innate ability to transfer pain,

From the deepest wounds, to their own bodies,

Lessen pain for their children, for speedier cures

A mother’s heart drugs with despair,

Over a child succumbed to pleasures vicious


The mother kneels down in prayer, day and night

For a child who wouldn’t surrender to grace immaculate

The mother walks alone to temples and churches,

Mosques and synagogues, turns a pilgrim eternal,

For her child’s homecoming, for the return of a racketeer

The mother weds hunger, to satiate her child’s need for food,

The mother burns the midnight oil, during her child’s days of test,

Struggles to keep awake, after a day of toil, of trials and troubles


Pick up the phone, call your mother,

Tell her that you love her, which is not enough though,

Book a ticket; take a trip down that road once again,

One that leads you home, a pathway presupposed

Care for her like you never did, like today is that last day,

Love her like never before, fill her days with cheer,

Walk the roads with her; show her a world anew,

Sit by her side; hold her hand, for she needs you



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