the daily bread is a possible sign
that I am endowed by my Lord
and I am possessed by his
pleasing blessings...
but, today, my eyes wet my cheeks,
and continue to trickle down my chin
for the eternal gift in the name of
my mother.
her radiant smile that sparkle gold
takes my breath each moment away,
her frown lines take my anger away,
her worry lines make my heart skip a beat.
the day she laughs gets my heart
soaring like a kid with a candy bar.
the pain she had to go through,
the abuse she endured,
the sickness she never told
and the plight she suffered.
her anger that dissipated into the dough
and her sadness that melted into rice,
happiness into my deserts...
all made my life a blessing in disguise.
the tears she shed for my pain and hurdle
burden my shoulders...
and I am still unable to repay a penny back;
but she loved me and had me in her wings
not for something in return,
yet as the November clock ticks minutes
away, I am still depressed
with no proper gift to give
or a generous promise to make.
this moment, I take away from my life
and ponder hard on the sacrifices she made,
the life she missed, the hurt she bore.
I want to thank my lord above
for this blessing, with tears in my palm,
with quivering lips and aching heart;
and pray hard for her to be with me, happily,
until I can no longer keep my head straight.
I cannot promise this sweet soul anything,
but I can pray with all my heart
for her sweet living and smiling face.
I only pray for an extra blessing to be had
and that is the abuse- mentally and physically
to be stopped so that she can breathe fresh air
and bright sun without worrying anymore.
this special eve, I cross my hands hard as knuckles
turn white and pray that she be given
the highest ranks in heaven with everything
she wished for in this world; granted.
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Contest entry for https://www.wattpad.com/489139262-contests-theme-contest-november-is-thankful-open
I don't think I am thankful for anyone else than I am to my mother who literally sacrificed her happiness for my good being even though I couldn't help her physically and mentally. Thank you... mom.
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Ink Stains
PoetryA collection of musings from my heart that doesn't stick to a certain genre but mostly writes on heartbreak, depression, sadness, loneliness... of course masked under heavy abstract and metaphorical imageries. It might not be your simple poem to...
