POEM_: Dialogues with Mother: XI

Mother,

I often wonder

what I would do

when you are

no more.

Who will harass me

like you have

always done

and still do.

And who will caress me

like you have

always done

and still do. 

When I permit you.

Yet,

there are so many things

that I think

I may be able,

may want to do

when I do not have

to mommy-sit you.

And these things

have changed

over the years.

I no more want

to lose myself

in dissipate romances;

in drunken orgies.

Not because, now,

I value my life more;

but because I value it

and my wants

much lesser.

What matters,

if I did

or did not

get what I wanted:

just another

lost little butterfly

in the great, beautiful

garden of this Earth,

in the vast, limitless

expanse of the Universe.

Mother,

my desires

matter not. 

I, matter not. 

Even you, Mother,

matter not.

But what can I do

Mother. 

You,

still matter to me. 

And matter,

more than my desires.

So,

don’t go.

- owais

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This is first being published here.