We met in the time of Diwali-
the festival of lights,
my Mom always energetic
and full of life - but that day
the lights could not brighten her face
holding her volcano of hot lava
her moist eyes flashed a welcome
which was genuine, a smile despite
her silent grief and empty interiors,
a gift of my father’s parting
her lonely world crushed under
the weight of his love: she now lives
with memories of million spaces.
She is the support of our unbending strength
the beacon of hope in turbulence.
I looked back recounting my days
spent under her benign shadow and
care all women show but she did
what the angels seldom propose,
my yesterdays are my today’s strength.
She is the rock we rested upon
oblivious of the knives of future,
her thoughts guided to trust on.
With less of toys more of joys
life was away from stress
never can we get the days again
now life is give and take bargain.
Yes sadness grief and pain
are her friends now,
she is in family yet lonely
today when lamps light up faces
she sits by one lamp,
the light of memory of long conjugal life
warming her cold zeal to live
and love her shaped dolls
to light all lamps to brighten her face.
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