Crossing a pebbled pathway
Bare feet flinching in pain
A flowered cotton gown
Flapping around my knees
Flimsy hair tangled, unkept
Nodding in the wind
Revelling at the novelty of pain
Squinting at the sunrays blinding
Raising on tiptoes,
Opening the door
I must have been a child,
Aged four or so
Driven by an urgency
To be with you alone
I searched for you in our home,
Threatening, it had suddenly become
Roaming the rooms of olden years
Unspoken secrets that spooked
Dark corners that swarmed
Shadows on walls loomed
Dust collected under bamboo chairs
Cobwebs stuck on wood-framed doors
Of onions and herbs, reeked the air
A wooden plank shrieked, to repeated blows
In our kitchen amidst raised voices – shrill
Strange smells, and known strangers hostile
Sensing that you were there among
A mass of relatives old and young
I side-stepped, crept through, and bounced
Hauling myself on you, in delight
To wrap around your waist with might
Knowing well how much I am loved
Burrying my face in your soft belly
Inhaling your sweet scent in mine
Straining my head backwards to see
Your eyes trailing down to lock with mine
To embrace me whole-heartedly
To erase my fears of uncertainty
Standing deaf to all else
But your tender smile,
Recalling how I pinned
For your affection undivided
I relive your girl-child amma,
Deep within me still!
aww. sweet poem. i enjoyed it. i could see the images of a young freckled kid. hoping from stone to stone, withh her big eyes. observing and loving it all..
wow Deva. from the fist line, i imagined how you felt the flinching before i could even get to the second line. then... and then, you roam the rooms of olden years. it is as if that child is holding your hand now, showing you your past.
with such ease you take us to that moment so perfectly...the sights, the smells, the sensations drip straight off the page....great write.
Another brilliantly evocative poem. So well remembered and described. Thanks for letting us have a peek into the photograph album of your mind.
This is a sweet and evocative memory-poem - - written with a flow which is reminicient of a child - and the last verse takes us to a lovely conclusion - and no doubt a male-parent who was loved dearly.......10 for this - - from Fay..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful poignant write Deva...lovely read thank you...the images just leap off the pages...Fi 10+++