Mother: The Artist Poem by HARVENDRA SINGH

Had Brahma, the father, anything worthy
to repay her—
the unconditional attachment,
the unquestionable love,
and her tireless service?
Mulling over his inadequacy day and night,
in quiet perplexity and bewilderment,
he offered her clay—
which the contented mother embraced.
She took it to her wheel,
spun time into form for nine long months,
and through her artistry
shaped life from her own life:
a breathing soul wrapped in clay,
with eyes reflecting eternity.
Again and again she kissed
his gift—
not her own.