The Old Woman Poem by Mohabeer Beeharry

If I could be the warmth
In the blue sky
I would gently rest your head
On a pillow of golden sunshine.

I would free your limbs
From the restless uncertainty of old age.

If I could be the cool in the early morning breeze
I would waft over your old body
And like balm, bring comfort to your shaky bones.

I wonder at those hands
Now knotty and wrinkled,

The water they had carried from the village well
The daily search for fire wood,
The clothes they had rubbed at the river.

I think of those scars
Left by the sickle,
The dry stomach
And the hungry mouth
Now thin and leathery,
All for others

Alone in your hut now
Singing songs of love
Affection and sacrifice,

In these last moments,
The birds
The beautiful sunshine
The blue sky,
And the hills and the mountains for friends,

You watch the tumultuous rush of the new era,
One of arrogance and hypocrisy,
Heartlessness and greed settling in.

You know your time is done
And you are not worried.

The smile continues to blossom
No heart aches.
You grew no thorns.

You only came to grow.
The fruits are for others to reap
And enjoy.

For once in this old world
You came empty handed.
There is nothing now you want to take with you,
Except God's love.