Mother

Disclaimer: the following poem (if I can call it a poem) was written in 2001. I was in the English class and I was bored. I wrote these lines. This is one of many poems I had written in those years. My endeavors were never deliberate and it was no religious duty for missing which I would accuse myself of blasphemy. In the years that followed I have stopped writing poems. I just can’t do that and again I have not stopped taking an oath before a deity with holy water in hand. Who knows I might someday foray into poetry? For that day, God save poetry!!!

I watch the movement of hands
and the sweater that is been knitted
The humming sound escapes slowly
from the segregated world
The needles working through the wool
creating hole and again undoing the whole
The work on the lap of a departing summer
or a welcome to winter
The simple dream in the eyes
and the color of wools reflecting in them
In her heart lies the desire
to please her darling
Her son, her husband
with image of completed work
and she stops, to imagine
A smile springs on her face
the comfort shines in her eyes
and the hum continues
escaping like smoke
Human wishes are not dead
there are dreams everywhere