Died Differently
Poetry — death of a mother
I held that child in my womb.
Months and months have passed,
Standing at the ninth — I am here,
Awaiting for that day to come.
— Send her to me.
I wish my kid happiness,
Bring me luck with her presence,
Waiting to see you grow,
From feeling your presence in my soul
— Send her to me.
Days passed hard,
the golden day was here.
She was impatient — happiness floods over her.
Nervous and scared she held her child,
last time.
She went through pain — labor insane.
Just to see her —the newborn,
she was hurt with bruises,
the new-born tore through the way.
Her kids were waiting — husband away.
Then rose the sun,
Marking the birth of her own blood,
Happiness down the chin,
Pain insanely brutal,
The last thing she saw — a crying newborn.
She fought through her life,
Witness was none.
They didn’t see her cry in pain,
Beside the newborn — storms stayed.
She was dead — no word was heard.
Her elder son — can’t call her again.
The newborn can never hide in the arms.
She flew like a free bird that she was.
The newborn had wished she stayed longer.
Her tears sounding the pain.
The future of the children — hell spent.
None can ever love them.
Mother’s special spent.
Its hard to see her go,
Her responsibility fading away.
I wish I never witnessed that,
I can never fill her gap,
She was someone I never met,
Brave-her stories said,
Peace — hoping it reaches her soul.
Death is a part of life,
But hers was different.
A mother was lost — children abandoned.
Where will they find shelter now?
Mercy — their eyes — showing pain.
