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Oh, my brother..
I can see storms causing havoc in your eyes.
All you can do is stare,
seeking comfort from a tombstone.
Beautiful marble cannot reach out to you,
nor can it hold your hand.
Tell me who will wipe away those sympathetic tears?
For I have no sympathy for you.
I still remember happy tears
rolling down her face,
as the nurse placed you in her arms.
You were held so close,
as she kissed your tiny soft cheeks
to ease your cries.
Like every child,
before you called for God,
you called for your mother.
Yet, you abandoned her...
You won't remember,
but, You slept so comfortably,
oblivious to her pain, as you found solace.
You won't recall the sleepless nights,
the pangs of hunger, nor her broken heart.
As your father, a coward, walked away.
Not once did she fail to attend your needs.
When you were sick, she sat by your side,
soothing your infant cries.
Instead of crumbling, her spirit remained strong,
in the hope for a beautiful future for her son.
how everyday, she awaited your return,
cooked your favourite meals
and bought you clothes, she could not afford.
Whilst, I became invisible..
You had everything a child could need.
Through the years,
you never noticed her fatigued eyes,
nor her wrinkled hands,
tired from working so hard to provide for you.
You lived your life, without a care.
For everything you needed
was provided. Yet not once
did you listen to a word, she said.
You met a girl, became obsessed,
and wasted all of mother's savings.
Running after materialistic needs.
Fancy restaurants, exotic holidays,
you thought you were 'living the life.'
Not once did you remember mum,
ignoring her calls, rarely coming home.
But, still she waited in anticipation.
As you laughed, she cried;
as you danced, she sat worrying about you.
You got married.
Where was her invitation?
Were you ashamed?
Or did she have no money for you?
Your ignorance became your curse,
as you lost all respect.
But still it broke her heart.
Now you stand here,
staring at her name,
engraved on marble stone.
Your tears water flowers of regret.
muttering mother's lullabies,
as you call her name,
disguised under deep sighs..
Who will ask now:
"Son when are you coming home?"
Who will replace her scent?
Never will you taste food cooked
by such compassionate hands.
Never will you be able to see the love in her eyes.
Never will you feel the warmth of her arms,
nor the love of a mother's kiss.
Turn your head in shame
and walk away.
Mum is in heaven now,
free from your torment..
14 September 2017
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Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017