The Mother In Son’s Base. Poem by Subrata Ray

Hail Mother Kali,
Which of your image,
Your son may guess,
To feel your incarnation.
Which of your form,
In meditation norm,
Conquer the carnal.

Mine is a vacant lot,
A waif with no mother’s care, -
The bounty graces, -
The cheek –lapping faces,
And tender affections layers,

Lacking, lacking, wanting I,
Too poor, to see thy, worth,
Thus your Divine,
No reacts on mine.

Hey my mother,
Show me further,
That in all woman you are,
Show me your that image, ,
My feeling may have coverage,
The mother in your son’s base.