My Mother Will Not Curse Me
Mother, your insanity is my blessing!
Your cry, like a creaking door,
Opens to a lawn of sour,
Your eyes, like a flame of candle,
Pierce to my heart that fails to handle.
And, your insanity is my blessing!
Because, I am not a son of your dream,
The essence that dripped out of the cream,
The life that burns as a wooden window,
The deep woods that drenched with heavy shadow,
Mother, I am not a son of your dream.
The dream of becoming a morning dew,
A song that moves a failing crew,
A dawn, a dusk and a poem with lovely words,
A canoe in search of unknown world,
And, I am not a son of your dream.
See, I am a warrior of a losing battle,
The blood was washed through the rains that clatter,
I see the children playing on the streets,
I do not know, is it sickle or flowers for them to treat?
I am not a son of your dream and still away from your curse,
Mother, your insanity is my blessing!.
Copyright © Thoppil Bharathan | Year Posted 2007
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