All I remember is her big brown
eyes and prominent eyelashes which eventually got passed on to me. So many
unanswered questions. When marriages built on youthful idealism fall apart, it
can crush your faith in life. She was a rebel. Here is an unfinished poem that
I wrote for her:
I waited for the sunshine that
never came
Forever cloudy I tried to peak at
some light
My Mom, a glimpse would set the
storm aside
Where have you been? Where are you
now?
To calm my nerves I wish I had a
lady
Not a lover but a mother…
Her face reminiscent of some deity
with her head held high as she waltzed on with elegance. She always had a
youthful exuberance. She outshone almost everybody. The cries for chocolate and
food, she calmed me like no other. In an age so young, I lost my mother to a
social creation, a divorce. Today all I have is a Facebook page and a glitchy
cursor and all I can is leave a text to her. But what should I write? Will she
acknowledge me as her son? The strength crumbles under my weak heart. I have
but one choice and that is cut the power to my laptop and sit and weep till I
can no more and am able to confront my fears. Seeing your own mother on Facebook
after years is unbearable. The phrase, “you look just like your mother” haunts
me.
I wonder if she also remembers us,
me and dad. I wish she knew how sick I was few days back. I wish she knew we
needed her.
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