MAMA INDIA

There is something she had to say
Continuing what she said that day
But our memory fails to recall a face
And so we begin to save her grace

This memory game that’s on the go
Never finds a stop, never likes the slow
Thus it fades from all such minds
That are convoluted across the line

We only liked the good she found
The other things never came around
So she searched again with innocent eyes
Not distinguishing between wrong and right

She seeks, seeks what attracts the mind
Whether adult, infant, or infinite
And when she finds no good anymore
We quench her ‘thirst to explore’

And wrap her in a tricoloured divide
Where we can home, where we can hide
But this mother of ours was never a bride
Or a daughter, or sister, or a friend, or anything else..

-K.G.