Mother Stories

For so long I thought to tell a mother mother stories
the hurt and the scorn and the death-insult endured
in mother stories
I thought I would tell you those stories
those mother stories –
a mother’s story . . . who giving birth over and over
died clasping her belly with her two hands –
in her body was no Now
with the pain of not sleeping at night she went mad.
I was born from her body . . .
not once could I touch her heart . . .
I thought I would tell you those stories
those mother stories –
that mother’s story . . . in her eyes was the burning of a World War
the silent struggle of an unmarried mother
the dream of home was shattered again and again
the brave mother of Karna said to Death, “Come” –
I am nothing beside her I know, but with my heart
silently, I touched her heart,
still . . .
when she,
when they went away from me
not saying goodbye,
since then I have seen the faces,
since then I have talked in my heart
with the sad mothers . . .