did i ever see mother
dance like a
little girl
when she was alive?
did i ever see her
laugh like
a lovely little girl
once when she was
alive and was
with us all
in that small house?
did we ever wonder
why we did not see
her at all smile
as though we were friends
and not as her children
all i remember was that
she told us stories
before we sleep and
crowd in that small bed
covered by a white
cloth mosquito net
she was telling us
about some ghosts
who will eat all of us
because we refuse
to sleep early
because she still had
a lot of other things
to do
some lesson plans
to write
some letters for
her mother
some loan applications
to accomplish
some prayers
to recite
while father
waits for her
in another room.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem