She was no more
My mother was no more
I waited for the news at the airport
In the smoke-filled smoke zone
Smoking out pressures of expectation
I cut the phone and smoked one more
As I sipped a cup of cappuccino
Cupboard of memory opened up
Old memories tumbled out
My body shivered to block the emotion
At the washroom I washed my face
With warm frothy water
Laced with a tear gushing down the basin
My own emotions surprised me
She had died in her bed
She was my mother
I had waited for it always
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Death is such a part of life, and yet is never a common matter. There's always raw emotions: pain, sorrow... But amazingly, in time we heal, though the memories ever remain. A very sorrowful poem, but may it console many.