Mother

My mother has lived her whole life
for others,
being a daughter, a sister,
a wife and a mother.
never for once,
she has had the liberty
to be herself,
to just be her
without the roles assigned
to her to serve others. 

more than her giggles,
I've heard her whimper
and to hear her hearty laughter
would be once in a blue moon.
she has beautiful white skin and
a natural rosy tint to her cheeks,
but the unhealed wounds
in her heart
would tell you a different story. 

I have never heard her
speak ill of anyone,
she always says that
nobody is evil,
it is the circumstance that makes
they act the way they do,
and I argue with her
about people who purposely
hurt her and make her feel small
and she asks me to be kinder to them.

she does not understand
science very well,
but she still teaches me everything
I need to know to not just survive
but be successful in life
and I don't know how she does it. 

from teaching me maths tables
to prepare me for my interviews,
from hugging me without questions
while I sobbed after my first heartbreak
to share with me the tales of her
youth where love was forbidden
but still as beautiful,
she has always been my best friend. 

I cannot write about 
her challenges and hardships
because I cannot,
but more than that,
it is almost impossible for me to
describe the way she loves
and never stops giving,
the way her eyes are always filled
with warmth even when her soul
is tired and cold,
all I can write is that
my mother is the only God
I know.

-Pranavi Darsi