Mother

Written by: Mohammad Yamin

A banyan tree that shields from tropical summer sun 
A symbol of selfless love and sacrifice 
A preserver of values that modernism has shun 
No praise is enough, no gratitude suffice 

Her love for her children is like blossom of springs 
An angel she appears, a fairy she seems 
It’s a symphony for ears, the lullaby she sings 
The lullaby that drifts you in the valley of dreams

A teacher, a guide, a philosopher, a friend 
An architect, a builder of beauty and grace 
A garden of roses that fragrance send 
Serenity of a lake where ducklings race

She suckles her babies with white blood of breasts 
The hearts yearn for her bosom’s paradise 
She strains every nerve, sacrifices her rests 
Burning midnight oil with sleepy eyes

The special mothers that God has blessed 
Maryam, Khadija, Fatema and Asiya 
Women par excellence, mothers at best 
Whether in Africa, Asia or the West 

Mothers are an oasis in the desert of life 
Their love and passion isn’t for display 
Chained to the oar in your perils and strife 
A shower of rain on a hot summer day 
                           ***
(Dedicated to my mother Begum Najmunnesa, who  left me  alone in this world        at the age of twelve and all the mothers whatever caste, creed, colour, religion     and nationality they are. I salute them all)           
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