Mother From A Foreign Land Poem by Anand Brown

You stare and glare aware of the stark dark of the forest.
Blinded by tears that move slowly down the bones of your face.
You are but frail and weak.
You are the mirror of death.
You offend those brave enough to stare in your direction.

The dark forest is quiet and alive with movements hidden
By thick vegetation.
Your bony shoulders with exposed clavicles carry the weight of death.

Under a mighty tree and the moonlight
You bend on brittle bones to dig a shallow pit.
A pit to lay your son in, your joy and reason for living.
Thin boned big bellied you lay him to rest.