Mother Forever

This poem is dedicated to all the Moms out there.  The ladies who dedicate their entire life to bring up this other human being without expecting anything in return. Surely "The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world".

My whole life changed,

The day, I held your little finger.

All my plans, already rearranged,

To include you in it my little wonder.

So little, so fragile,

Your eyes shined, like stars in the sky.

So innocent, so beautiful,

Your smile, like fireworks on the fourth of July.

Your first word, your first step,

Running around the house bare feet.

Those moments, all in my mind etched,

I still see you, as you used to be.

Use to walk you to school,

Every morning, lost count of the days.

Painting together, was the weekend rule,

I always loved the mess you’d make.

A few years down,

You were no longer that five year old.

Your hair were longer and you wore an evening gown,

You were growing up as I was growing old.

My little girl became a beautiful lady,

You changed your clothes, your style and the way you’d speak.

I no longer needed to make your room tidy,

You managed to keep me away for weeks.

I was no longer welcomed to welcome you home,

You no longer craved my presence at the door.

Sneaking in at odd hour you’d rush to your room,

You no longer wanted me to wait up anymore.

You kept me up whole night when you were a baby,

And I complied happily.

Now you still keep me up all night young lady,

What a shame! What a tragedy!

I worry for you and what your into,

Your friends seem shady and your future unsafe.

I care for you and when I try to help,

You scream ‘Leave me alone!’ and slam the door in my face.

As a mother I’d always wish the best for you,

I love you and I always will but I have my dignity to keep too.

Your wish is granted dear daughter,

Today I leave you.

Never imagined I’d live to see everything fall,

As you stand at the door I stand outside.

Sure my bones are weak but my spirit is strong,

Before I leave let me give you some advice.

Don’t you worry about putting me in an old age shelter,

I can live on my own, I have lived before you.

I’m a mother and I’ll be a mother forever,

It’s not a ‘Pick and Choose’, it’s not a ‘Onetime’ thing,

You’ll realize this when you have a daughter too.

-Yusra.Shaikh

Announcement.

My poems are now also available on Qpeka.com.
For example you can straightaway search it on google i.e just type "Superman on Qpeka" on google and you can easily find it and so on.
-Yusra.Shaikh.

Ask the one who has lost a child.

This poem was inspired partially from the very latest incident of the 4 kids who died in an air attack while playing soccer on the beach in Palestine.
 

{LINK: http://nymag.com/daily/intelligencer/2014/07/4-palestinian-kids-killed-in-front-of-reporters.html}

The severe torture the families have to face who have lost their kids right before their eyes.
The poem also says that the common man the, irrespective of cast,creed,religion or race just wants to live a peaceful and happy life.Sadly and unfortunately it's always people like us- you and me, the civilian, the one who's got nothing to do with all of it, who suffer the most in such situations.

And lastly this poem is not a rant about leaders or higher authorities, as the message I basically wanted to give is at the end is " A few rotten apples can spoil the whole lot". 

 

You lost your son, in a bloody war.

I lost mine too, in that same war.

Your son flew, airplanes up high.

Mine flew, kites in the sky.

You remember the day, he went far away.

I remember the day, my baby went out to play.

You kind of knew, your son won’t return ever.

But I had no clue, mine would be lost forever.

All you remember, is a knock on your door.

Two strangers, and a suitcase of clothes.

There was no knock, at my door though.

Ran out bare feet, when I heard the loud blow.

At eighteen years old, filled with pure passion.

Your young man, was everything you imagined.

At eleven years old, my little one.

Had so many dreams, so much to learn.

Both our children, gone in seconds.

Yours got a grand funeral, mine easily forgotten.

Your son, remembered as an inspirational legend.

Mine,  simply as collateral damage.

You lost, the apple of your eye.

I lost, my charming little guy.

While your son, flew airplanes killing thousands below.

My son’s heartbeats reduced, his breath becoming shallow.

They tell you, we are the enemy.

But there is one thing, common, between you and me.

You know how it feels, you know the pain.

Can’t sleep at night, remembering it all over again.

But what a shame!

Your son, cannot be blamed.

Brainwashed and manipulated, by a few rulers.

He was just a soldier, following the orders.

This is what happens, when two nations fight.

Due to a handful of people, filled with so much spite.

Murder in cold blood, is not mild.

Ask the one, who has lost a child.

 

 -Yusra Shaikh