Do you know
who a mother is?
That to whom
one can go –
when one fails
and bare all:
all one’s bruises, hurts, inadequacies;
drop all defences
and all make-beliefs
and be acceptable for what one is.
A person with whom
you find tenderness and love
simply because you are you.
With whom
you need not put up a show
of the confidence of a breadwinner
of the strength of a father
of the bravado of a lover…
Mother,
you were good
but this one thing
you could never give me.
So rarely could I come to you
with a failure.
And when I did
it would be to hear you say:
“I told you so.”
You could never really accept:
Incredulous, you’d say: My son? Failed?
My son?
And to this day
I know no greater pain
no greater failure
and in retrospect, no greater betrayal
than this.
- owais
--
This was earlier published in "Love?"
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1 comment:
true and painful
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