Unwanted Guest

Like an unwanted guest, I came, said you…
Mother, you never saw me though, never knew me within.
A reason to smile, I thought, I would be,
…Little did I know, that it was tears I brought, tears of remorse.
For the warmth of your love, your caring touch, I craved,
But cold I felt, in the darkness of your womb,
Coldness from your heart, of despair, or…of hatred?
To the world unknown and wide, I wished to open my eyes,
Yet little did I know, that I was never to see, the world outside you.
I wished to be a raindropp in the middle of summer, to quench your thirst,
But for you, WHY MOTHER, was I mere a dark cloud, to hide new spring’s sunlight?

…My child, I longed to see you, to know you, to love you,
Yet smile you failed to bring, you came as a surprise, I never wished for.
I feared to love you, my dear, agony and pain, it’d bring, I knew,
For you were never to belong, never to be called mine.
My love for you I tried to hide, beneath the mask of hatred and wrath,
But in my moments alone, I couldn’t hide, you were mine, a part of me.
Confused, weighing between right and wrong, I waited, heart heavy with pain,
For the moment of loss, your loss, was near, I knew.

…A pain in my veins, drifts me into a land of dreams, numb to the world around,
I float around, in the world of memories, misty sights, unknown lands.
As time ticks by, a puzzle unsolved and solved, with no traces left, and-
I open my eyes, to know that you have gone, no longer there, no longer mine.
Eyes moist with tears warm, I welcome the darkness of dusk that cover me,
The truth dawning upon me that you remain a memory, as you were destined to be…

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 2 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

AFTER READING THIS POEM, I AM REALLY SURE ABOUT ONE THING... U WILL MAKE A GREAT MOTHER.... :)
An act of passion - no crime - a moment of defiance to the centuries-old social learning - giving in to the celebration of senses - an embryonic response from the nature. Eternity intervenes. The fear psychosis - society's own Gestapo, shadows you down - a Hobson's choice. Dare not listen to the heartbeats - emanating either from inside the ribcage or a little below. Unlearning social lessons is not easy. Better to surrender to the taboos. Fascism delivers. So does your lyric. A prosaic after-thought - shedding a conceptus doesn't constitute a moral offence.