Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Amita Sarjit Ahluwalia writes


Humankind breaks my heart

Humankind puts it together

Humankind makes me despair
Makes me hope

Those bone anklets under your swirling skirt
Those thin resilient legs
Your march in March on a dusty road
At four score years and ten

That unashamed look which makes the giver beg
Your pardon
You have a right to what is given

One moment in a heap
The next upright

The T shirt that says I love New York
That flesh coloured bag with its black holding straps

The heat a shimmer
The night a glimmer

Hunger a constant gnawing at the gut
A dull heavy ache in the head

Sprawling on a green bank falling from the road
Like a kind grassy hillslope of home, asleep

In a sweaty crowd of others like you
To smile at your little girl , then lifting her back
On your shoulder

You and you and you
If I say I love you
Does it mean anything?

Better than pointless tears
But as useless as prayers

When deaf gods will not hear

You may not hear
But you know

Come home

I am your Mother today
I wait
My arms outstretched

Come home to me

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