Poem 085, Sonnet 37: Mother, How Long?
Beloved mother, so it has been fated
That I be severed from your pedigree
A budding bough, cut off, incinerated
Weaned child ere savouring your quiddity
Behold my kismet, scion alienated
Denuded of your sweet propinquity
My sturdy spirit… withered, enervated
My quondam treasures? Dire paucity!
Mother, too many crosses elevated
Many a truth, many a tragedy
A million thrashings, gladly tolerated
For naught, save your unstained maternity
A zillion deaths, sustained by your affection
Mother, how long before my resurrection?
July 16th 1991
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