Mother Poem by dr swami arupananda

i have to return time and again
to the thin trails of strange memory,
touch the garland made of raindrops
that once had hanged around my neck.

sometimes i have to scan
the whisker ends drooping on my lip
while exchanging deep kisses
and see if i could keep
all the promises i had made.

i am not only the fragile present
i am the surer past
decorated between moments,
yet an uncommon eternity.

while winking my eyes i stay back
on the frost like face
of my dead mother.
i feel like tearing apart with my long nails
the waterbed of biluakhai
that looks all devouring.

the thorny shrubs guarding
the narrow lane to my home
could notprotect her,
i feel like metamorphosing them
to a endless black desert.

mothers do not die
they hop from present to past
to future as they lay.

dear mother
still and breathless though
you are the sky above my head,
and an ocean of compassion
for my heart, a repository
where no memories dies.

mothers do not die
guileless they always smile
and pass into ourselves
when we fold our sleeves,
once in a while.