Sunday, May 9, 2010

Shubh Bala Shiesser - One Poem


Outside the sun dipped into an inky darkness
inside the room was filled with an icy silence
hurt my exhausted nerves

with grave tenderness I lay in her bed, covered
my face with her comforter, breathing her scent.
I burst into loud cries

how quickly the place had changed,
a faded lusterless bed cover, dusty carpet,
a jumbled collection

three rosaries, bobby pins, sandalwood carvings
of Buddha, a stack of international coins,
grandchildren’s photos

the clothes in her closet were lifeless now,
I found a notebook of her poems hidden in clothes,
and a pair of new slippers

I tried to wear exactly like mother
not to hurt her bunion. A pang of grief whirred.
I touched her clothes

gathered into my arms and gave to the two house
female servants who had served mother for years,
they kissed my head

hugged me tightly and we cried together.
I searched for her photographs at least to reaffirm
her physical presence in this world

one black and white photograph, now turned
brown, showed her gentle face, and peaceful
large eyes fixed on me.

I kissed her photograph many times, pressed
it to my aching heart Beejee, Beejee, Mother,
Mother dear.

Shubh Bala Shiesser Lives in Austin, Texas. Poetry reading and writing is a hobby.

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