Mother: An Elegy
Who could have fathomed
How deep the roots will have to
dive, wrestling against
the earth's crust
to wring out water
and food.
What we saw was the canopy
of green foliage
offering free shelter
from sun and rain.
When mother lay
on the pyre
her lips were locked tight
in a smile,
for she was free now
from the everyday death
she died
trying to wring out
food and water for others
from her marrow.
Nobody saw or heard
the thousand words
her lips held from escaping
lest the walls should crumble
around her.
Now she is at peace.
May be the world is
a better place today
for some mothers,
A place
they won't want to leave.
