Sunday, 14 January 2018

Inquietude

Can you hear me Amma?
Sometimes I can't hear myself,
Sights remain blurry,
Voices frail,
Paths I walk infect me,
If I stop now,
Can you survive?

Do you remember Amma?
The day you left me alone at school?
I felt being ripped apart,
From you, trees and crows,
Earthworms and centipedes,
I cried,
You never came.

Did you know when I first lied to you?
"The wound in my hand was
from a fall in the playground"
Would you have held me close,
If I said the truth then?
Would you kiss me to sleep,
If I say the truth now?

Could you come here Amma?
Will you rest me on your lap?
Will you sing me a lullaby,
of butterflies, flowers, and love?
Will you stroke my erupting head?
I need to sleep.

***

For those who don't follow Malayalam, 'Amma' is the word we use for 'mother'. I could've used 'mother' itself here, but then it wouldn't have been a poem at all.

8 comments:

  1. There are times where only the words that are closest to our heart will do. You were right to go with Amma.

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  2. What a beautifully expressive poem~ you have written from the heart about your mother, most dear.

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  3. Oh the pain of separations...

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  4. I dont think we ever outgrow that need for a mother's loving touch. This is a very moving poem, Anand. Just lovely. I remember dsropping my little boy off at kindergarten - the teacher lifted him to bring him in, and he grabbed the edge of the doorframe, terrified, resisting. Sigh. Poor boy.

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  5. A touching poem. Wise to use "Amma" ... it's meaning was perfectly clear.

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  6. A heartbreaking poem, Anand, especially the lines:
    'The day you left me alone at school?
    I felt being ripped apart'
    and
    'Will you stroke my erupting head?
    I need to sleep.'

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  7. I see dark desperation and depression in your words Anand, words telling of self-harm and possible suicidal ideation, and of keeping your pain from your Amma, to protect her but in doing so, further hurting yourself.
    I hope she lets you rest on her lap and sings a pretty lullaby to comfort you and strokes your troubled head/mind, but please don’t sleep for ever.
    The kindest of regards
    Anna

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  8. This anguished poem goes straight to the heart!

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