The Cut of Cord

By Aswini Sivadasan

He, the admirer of my imperfections,

Never ever my days bloom without him,

And his days end with my lullabies up,

My imperfections help me to shape him out with perfections,

I did, I did it! Yes! Enthusiastically shouted inwardly.

Years passed,

Now,

The umbilical cord has been severed!

He introduces me to his family,

'His', yes, he cheerfully welcomed "

Here, My family, Mom".

I realised well that my son has now become a man.

My world is 'He',

But in His world,' I am NULL'

To him.

Spending life in an orphanage,

And thinking of the past gives me no use,

But the bliss is in imagining how

He would be, now, to look during this 15 years separation.

The pain of separation is tormenting me,

Arriving near the end, he comes on purpose

Of doing the upcoming rite,

Ensuing MY Death.

Bed-Ridden me,

Difficult to breathe,

Trying to utter a word

With my Son, the Sun of my life.

I reminisce the particular ten months,

For every girl who becomes a mother-to-be,

He dwelt in my womb where

He stayed and did

Some mischievous movements and unforgettable kicks.

Rare kind of jubilation I felt

That He had offered when

He was inside me.

The best of me, I give

To nourish him

Beyond the best of my life.

The coward heart has no guts to beat anymore,

I can see the tears in his eyes;

The blurring eyes noticed it.

O!! How can I be the reason for his pain,

He is the treasure that comes from me,

How can I let him feel the pain?

My heart has torn to see his tears.

The muted ears boost up with,

The lullaby he sings for me,

To have an interminable Sleep.

It is one, His favourite,

It is the one I used to sing,

Till when he was around five.

Sensing gratefulness to have

Him as My Son.

His voice is a pain killer to me,

My Grief filled heart cannot tolerate,

The sin of being the cause of His painful tears.

So, nothing more to do,

As retribution, I hold my breath.

Blessed to be His mother!

The few seconds before

When all gets black in vision,

He is the last image fallen into my eyes.

Feel the Peace after the successful penalty,

Death greets me and avow:

The buried Love of your son just spouted as tears for you.

Death trumpets:

"Mother is pawning her whole life

To Death to raise her offsprings;

Likewise,

Every Father has sold his soul out

To God to fulfil his offsprings' requisites”.

By Aswini Sivadasan