[A sinner created bedlam for me – Remembrance Poem for Mom]
A sinner created bedlam for me – Remembrance Poem for Mom
Photo credit: wildrocker92 from morguefile.com
It was back then in November,
Of the year twenty-ten.
I lost who I had treasured,
And could never see her silhouette again.
It was the day till which I had just lived a dozen years,
To let go of her meant a life full of fear.
She stood beside me, protected me throughout,
Curse the animal who mercilessly shot her down!
It was that day when I was begged to go along with her to the market,
I now regret having the air of being one starlet.
Disappointed, there was not a single more time she asked,
What happened next, left everyone aghast.
She drove down the street with her belongings on the seat where I sat,
Of course she was agitated, but there was nothing that she said.
I knew she wouldn’t now get my all-time most wanted hat,
What I knew not then was that the reason would be her dropping down dead.
People said she was driving slow, they said she drove fine,
The animal groundlessly shot her down, an action that no reason could suffice.
They said they stood standstill and attempted to cease his car,
When he warned to drive over them, they began to move back far.
This was when I got a call, as my number was saved as ICE on her phone,
What happened wasn’t emergency, it was something that left me blown.
I ran as fast as I could, and reached Wagon Street,
I turned on the waterworks as they checked her beat.
An ambulance arrived, doctors said they were doing their best,
Nothing helped in blocking the blood that oozed out of her chest.
‘No hope’, hearing this was with what I was having a fight,
I felt as lonely as though I’d suddenly become blind.
The day struck me as the earthquake that shakes up the land,
Half dead with no physical damage, I dropped on the sand.
In my heart, there was an approach of a clasp knife,
It was obvious seeing the culmination of the one who had given me this life.
Tears streamed down my chin, as I screamed for aid,
Too late it was, for there was a goodbye that she bade.
Life was never the same again, since the day of the abandonment,
The statement being palpable as it was nothing less than a torment.
The pain doesn’t halt from making its presence felt,
The idea to fulfill her dreams was on what I soon dwelt.
I buy grocery every week, wake up as early as I can,
I teach poor kids, provide them what they must have.
It helps me deal with the anguish and engages me in a daily rut,
But nothing returns me my mother, the only one whom I can trust.
I have no one for whom I shall make tea,
A sinner created bedlam for me.
– Alisha Beotra
