Below a cloudless blue sky
Which mother shall I now remember?
Eternal nurse or unpaid maid
Full-time cook or part-time teacher
Giving advice, not always sought,
But, usually, wise? Or the stranger
On an alien water-bed
Who, out of reach of God, son, and doctor,
For forty-seven days struggled to die? I silently repeat
The cross-legged wisdom of the priest
And the cupped stream in my palm
Blesses the leaf upon the sand. I shiver
Bare-chested, balancing myself, knee-deep
And place the mud urn upon the clear water –
In the chanting of the lapping ripples
And the patience of the crows, I discover
The suddenness of the final loss-
I shut my eyes and feel the moving river
Moving me beyond the endless flow
I feel the sunlight on my back
And I let my mothers go.
Insightful and poignant.
Thank you, Louis.
Beautifully depicted the emotions of last rites…V
Thank you, Maya.
Superb execution!
Thanks, Sunila.
Lovely composition, takes my breath away.
Thank you, Pramilakhadun.