That Caring Hand Poem by rashmi pradeep kumar

When by my mother’s side,
I sat mourning at her death;
He came and sat alongside,
He, who was with me, till her last breath.

When I cried out loud,
He pacified me with his words;
His words of love and compassion,
Calmed me down a lot.

I cuddled into a dark corner,
Sobbing on the cruel Death;
Who had snatched from me,
My prized possession – my Mother.

A lighted candle was brought,
’Twas held by that caring hand;
Into whose care my Mother
Had left me for ever and ever.

He gently lifted me up,
And hugged me close;
His whisper was calm and soothing,
I leaned on his shoulder, sobbing.

From thence, we started,
On the long journey of life;
Stood for each other through,
The thick and thin of this journey.

The broad frame of my
Beloved father, was my support;
His was a cool-tempered mind-set,
Of facing any obstacle on the way.

I sometimes saw the sturdy figure
Break down by the window;
But ne’er did he falter from his firm resolve,
To bring me up on his own.

He succeeded in his mission,
My Father, my driving force;
Who ne’er questioned my actions,
But urged me on, to be independent.

Even today when I lose my way,
I feel that guiding hand;
The caring hand, instructing me,
Leading me on, showing me the correct path.

Rashmi P Kumar
Std X