No Uncertain Death Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

No Uncertain Death

Rating: 2.8


I have seen no uncertain death
It was first time when I went to lay a wreath
My grand mother had recently passed away
I had spent considerable time with full stay

I go back to my childhood memory
She may take all steps to make me merry
I was her beloved and very dear child
She was never annoyed and remained mild

She may spread her hand on my head
In sound sleep I may feel touch and quietly read
She has the magic in hand and is quite apparent
I would forget everything even past and current

All the mothers of world are like that
This was reveled by grand and several times stated
Nobody can compare her with any object
She is known by her graceful act

Such lovely figure is not among us
My mother had so much love and trust
She may shed tears in little away place
So we should not see her pale face

She confided me how last days were so painful
Grandma was so critical but remained cheerful
She remembered me even to her last breath
I was the only one not present at the time of death

Everybody at that time was choked with emotions
We had to pray for her peaceful departure without any options
It was Almighty’s wish and we had to only pray
We could only weep and could not see her going away

She had so much deep affection
We could see in her eyes that reaction
She wanted to speak but could do nothing
We waited for her to speak something

Mother confided me something more
Grandma at the end was very sorry and sore
She never wanted me to be away from home
She waited for me to see her and welcome

She had her last remembrance
She had opted for this relation happily at once
She had worked day and night for our well being
She did everything for happiness to bring




I would go for her feeling
She did it for us happily and willing
How could we be that ungrateful?
She had done exceedingly well and remained resourceful

Every household has one old character
They may remain main figure and anchor
The family ship has to be towed safely to shore
It always requires something more and more

I look at her shining eyes and face
I find everything in her and there is nothing more to trace
She is doyen of all mothers with smiling personality
May be this is only one remaining quality

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Mehta Hasmukh Amathalal 24 April 2011

Today 10.04 The culture you were raised in was probably quite different from mine, but your love of your grandmother is the same. And my grandmother had all the virtues that yours had. Your poem paints the truh of a good, loving grandmother, and the love of her grandchild for her. Humanity are much more similar, than we are different. -Michael on No uncertain death From poetwithcancer Today 10.04

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Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Vadali, Dist: - sabarkantha, Gujarat, India
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