Mine.

My mother always told me,

“Be good, be kind”

Before anything else, be good.

In a world so fierce and harsh

I don’t believe I ever understood

 

Was there a place for her words?

 

A woman so tender, so mild I thought

Never realising that when tears shed from her eyes

It was hurricanes she was taming.

 

Beating, surging in her veins

These were never words she would need to say

 

She was strength, she was patience;

She was balance.

 

I,

I grew up with more opinions than thoughts

More thoughts than words

And more words than most

 

Somehow still believing I wasn’t doing enough.

 

Trying forever to find a place,

My place.

One that belonged to me,

That I belonged to

Safe, strong..mine.

 

In the ocean of questions

For every sea of confusions

There was a shore.

The sure shore that stood

Unmoving, unwavering, unchanging.

Unnamed, unthanked.

 

A calm glow at the end of every tunnel

A guiding light that never called itself out,

But just stood there, waiting for me to come home.

 

I watch my mother today,

Her grace and poise in every interaction

Of her with the world

With the old, the young, the living and the gone

A quiet song she shares, within, without

Her manifesto she bears

More a whisper than a shout

“Be good. Be kind”

I listen.

I’m home.

 

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