PRAKRITI WAS MY MOTHER’S NAME

Healthcare
March 25, 2017
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PRAKRITI WAS MY MOTHER’S NAME

My mother, is it you that I search for, with eyes blinded by concrete dreams?

I have lusted for land for long, one to live in and two more than I can own,

I have all of it finally,

But,why does fear makes my heart tremble today, as I look attheseleaf-less lifeless trees?

Why cannot I hear birdsong anymore?

Did I take away from the birds, their home?

Why is this land, that belongs to me so barren,

As barren as my heart, where tenderness no longer lives,

Where are the green golden leaves that once upon a time danced with the breeze?

Why have they left me, with no air to breathe?

Why has the spring, departed with the rose?

Why did the rose become extinct?

I see no vultures circle the sky,
The carcass of the lion has long become dry,

Waiting for dignity, to feed upon its death,

The way the jungle, celebrated its life,

But alas, the vulture too has died,

Both have left, for another heaven, one which earth has ceased to be.

My mother, I want to ask you, was my greed too much for you to bear?

Tell me, my mother, why are you silent thus,

Why do I have to search for signs of you, in never ending city lights?

Which do not let the stars touch my life?

Tell me if this unrest that burns in my soul, that does not let me sleep,

Is it because with hands thirsty for land, I condemned you to death that is deep?

Hark!

What is this sound I here, this voice so soft and sweet, which whispers to me . . .

‘My son, my child, I speak to you from eternity,

No one can kill me for I give birth to life,

I will live for as long as your bleeding heart beats,

Forget what you did to me, for you knew not a better way,

Forgiven you always were and you shall always be,

Just love yourself a little more,

Let your heart open its doors,

Be still for a moment and let gratitude bathe your wounds,

Un-burden the children you have borne,

Don’t pluck them out of their childhood,

Before they are ripe,

Let them bloom a little more, kissed by rain, and the sun’s light,

Bring them into my lap, so that the wind can sing to them, a lullaby,

Let them sleep in the cosy comfort,

Of soft green grass for a while,

Wait for life to turn them into Man,

And the rose, the vulture, the lion, and the tree,

Will all return to earth . . . .

Once again in my arms you shall breathe, to Eden you will return with Adam and Eve,

And from the Tree of Life you shall eat.’ 

 

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