I enter the quiet,
The quiet of my mother's heart,
A silence aged and deep.
She dwelled within this hush,
Spanning over five long decades.
Now, I yearn to explore,
With all my heart,
Every hidden corner of her heart,
To understand her, heart and soul.
Thus...
Like a thief in the night,
I wander the corridors of her heart.
One by one,
Each memory,
Cast from ancient boxes and shelves,
Nearly crumbling apart.
These memories are mine,
To store in my mind's shelves.
Though bittersweet,
They remain my sole treasures.
Shelves are cleared,
Boxes discarded.
Everywhere I seek
For the secret legacy left by my mother.
My mother…
Neither fully alive nor dead in her time,
She couldn't mirror Sylvia Plath,
Yet she was a poet, unacknowledged.
My mother…
Never a source of joy,
She fostered a well of sorrow,
Dooming her offspring to its depths.
My father was no Ted Hughes,
An ill-suited companion for her,
Scorned by his spouse throughout life,
Yet embraced by death.
No boxes of his to unpack,
No farewell to bid.
No shelves remained,
He left nothing behind.
Now my quest for the treasure ends,
The intruder despondent.
An old, worn notebook flung at me,
Bearing the scent of my mother's existence.
Within it lay a lengthy poem,
Penned in blood and tears.
The concealed treasure revealed,
The essence of my mother's life.
At last, I grasp the roots of her despair
Beautiful poem though a painful one. It seems that words are so real and poured out from your heart. In it was a long poem Written in blood an tear The hidden treasure was in it It was the life of my mother Now, I know the reason of her depression. It was really a hidden treasure, which she kept it to herself. That was the most painful part she couldn't share her pains with anyone. Many times life go this way too. By the time one understand the reality, its really too late. A heartfelt write.
A deeply moving write.... The thoughts of a mother who couldn't give much joy to her children as her life was stifled by her husband who neither cared her nor left any feelings of bond in his children. Your mother's silent pain which she transferred into her poem, you could now read and so you are capable of having a greater probe into her closed heart!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear poet, this is very beautiful and very moving poem. Thank you so much for writing this with all honesty and passion. Glad that finally you have opened the final box that ended your search and questions.