Please allow me to
Open your grave, exhume what is left of you
Though I may collapse
And most probably
I will collapse.

Let me talk with each bone that is still intact
I will,
Ignore the worms, ants and…
Whatever I see
I must
Even the cotton that you were wrapped in
If anything left of it
I want to ask a simple question
I need to beg you to tell me more about my mother.

What did you expect of her?
What did she do that you liked?
What of her did you not like?
How forgiving was each of you?
Was there any border between you?
What was the limit to each other?

Tell me how to handle life
And those around like my kids
I find myself insufficient, unable
I am still your child

by Nassy Fesharaki

Comments (1)

An earnest soul-searching poem, Nassy. Keep on writing. Tushar Ray