Ode to Fam

By Srijan

I can’t begin to think,

in this extreme depression,

but I see my mother nurture me in my forties.

I see her anxiety.

Through these years she’s kept it to herself,

but it’s reflected in the anxious state that she’s now.

If I had money, I’d take her to therapy,

or indeed get her operation done.

I see her wobble sometimes in pain,

the guilt weighs on me.

Therapist asked me to get my BP checked,

somehow that’s okay.

What’s not okay is the crumbling of everything,

sister and her kids are some support.

She pays our bills.

My own condition was incoherent and unintelligible,

how could have things been better?

Someone in family called it my mistake,

Another said, oh that’s like cough and cold.

Brings me to my mom, her suffering.

Therapist saw her a few weeks ago,

and said she’s worried.

By Srijan