Somewhere a mother serves an extra plate of food, thinking what if her missing son found his way back home, hungry and tired.

Somewhere a mother gazes up at the night sky, wondering how we are searching for life elsewhere when we don’t even know where our dead are buried on earth.

Somewhere a mother looks at the sea and hums a prayer, her words float over the waves like petals hoping her children sail to safety in their refugee boat.

Somewhere a mother keeps the door unlocked every night, they took her son, what more can one be robbed off.

Somewhere a mother sings lullabies to an empty room each night, hoping her son will wake up from his unknown grave one day.

Everywhere a mother’s hope is kept alive because love doesn’t give up

I stand staring at Dal counting how many raindrops is it made of What will be the magnitude of the flood if the silent cries of our mothers started to fall as tears.

Dal Lake(2002)

Published by Rishi


2 thoughts on “Mouj(maa)

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