The Invisible Strength

The sparrow cannot help being tireless. The banyan cannot help being sheltered. The moon cannot help being constant. And I cannot help being Amma. Even in my sleep, I dream of your healing. Even in my sadness, I love my purpose. I swim in the rivers of my devotion. I climb through the mountains of my fatigue. My hands move from cradle to cooking pot, From your fevered brow to folded laundry, From the newborn's delicate skin to dusty floors. My presence stretches thin across this house Your in-laws' glances slide past my labour, Your husband's eyes never quite seeing The midnight vigils, the 4 a.m. feedings, The meals appear as if by magic. I travel for years and years Through the terrain of invisible work. And on the other side Is Amma, beautiful Amma, My weathered hands created order in the chaos. You do not see me fully now, my daughter How could you, wrapped in your pain and wonder? But this too is motherhood: The blessing of being unseen While seeing everything. Nothing I accept about myself can be used against me. I am the silent centre of this storm, The root that holds when winds blow fierce. I carry generations in my bones. I am necessary, elemental. I am enough.