Your love pulls me
You stand aside harvesting fields wide-eyed.
To collect the sheaves of leftover grains
Tatters in your old robes you try to hide.
As though they're gold sticks, you pick the remains.
You work, you even beg for your mother.
She is old, sick, and might be dying soon.
I hear you also have a small brother.
I know you love him as though he's God's boon.
It's for them you've foregone all your joys.
As a victor, you've withstood despairs.
In words and deeds, you've a unique poise.
Your smile-filled service has surpassed your tears.
Your love pulls me, dear unheralded saint.
I love you as you defeat each constraint.
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