A Mother’s Crime.
The strength of a mother far exceeds anything out there.
Grace in her walk,
She glided through the dark Alleys, Alone.
Scavenging Eyes Scoured her,
That didn’t scare the little kindle inside.
Rain poured over her,
The half-minced clothes on her back all soaked.
She was shackled at last,
But her poise made it look a bit bright.
She held her head high,
Proud of every action she compassed.
All screamed her name,
Some in sympathy and others in disgust.
She did horrible things,
Some murmured her crimes of murder.
A feeble voice praised her,
She witnessed her justice at sight.
I ran up to her,
I clenched on to her warmth with all my little might.
Puny hands were not enough,
Feebleness had never made me feel so hopeless.
A sudden jolt broker the silence,
She was hanged without a bit of hesitation.
The crimes remained unjudged,
She protected me in the process, she took a vile life.
I stared at her gentle face,
The feeble voice crouched my arm and took me away.
He wiped my face clean,
Straightening me up, He told me her soul was free.
Free from her agony,
Free from her judgment of misogyny.
She had made me be strong,
To look at the monster of adversity straight in the eye.
Note:
This is a figment of my imagination. The foundation of this poem is of a mother who protects her child from imminent danger and in turn, commits a crime. In this, I try my best to express his son's emotions as her mother walks to her imminent death.
This is dedicated to all the women out there who are fighting to make ends meet for their children. They have taught us to have the strength in our voices and to stand face to face with adversity at all points of our lives.
