The Grand Mother of Time

At eight six years, all that
a widowed woman can do is feel lonely, yearn to have
lots of people around,
whether they ignore her or pamper.

An old woman might be living with the son,
the only son or one of the many.
And would try to disburse, whatever love her shrivelled
heart can disburse,
she would worry unending about her grandchildren
coming home late, and would be rudely ignored or
dismissed for being unnecessarily fussing, like an old witch
but she would persist, thinking that
she can still teach them things,
things from her good times.

She would long for the old relatives,
who will walk with her down the memory lane,
She would talk to them in her lingo
that only they can bear and understand patiently.

Nobody would care to listen to her stories
of suffering, of difficulties, of how she never bowed down
before fate and fought her battle and won,
raising her five children and giving them good lives
Only her daughters would, daughters always remember mothers
and comb her sparse hair or bring the sweets she likes to eat
but would not be given
The sons would be too busy,earning money and tending there children,
never teaching them to love their mother.

An old widow 's eyes holds nothing much,
but a vacant , dazed look in the hollow pits and numberless
wrinkles around them
telling that she still has life in her,
and a desire to see her grand children grow and marry,
and have children, but her body too weak to do the massaging
or soothing of a baby,
but her heart holding enough love to guide her family
for another generation.

Death is quite unpredictable.
May be at times, she would be praying to God,
to let her die,now that she has been rendered useless
and her work is done,
but her strings would be pulling her earthward,
her daughter-in-law, taking care of her bath and every morsel
trying her to keep her rooted.

She would be cursing her wrinkled skin and
weak bones, and would be dreaming of small impeding joys,
that God may allow her still,
She would be sitting with her swollen legs stretched on a low table,
reminiscing, sighing and waiting
for love,life and death.