a mother

A smile is the only thing she offers, and yet everything I ever need. It is a welcome so captive in my thoughts. Her voice is low and soft, short but aversive. She is a simple human with a diverse worry.

Sad is not appropriate for the caravan of rituals I see. Like the many, I believe in an unseen and unknown. That is how I come to know about a soul we inherit. It comes and goes without a smile at all.

When the unseen depart, that which is left is washed. Dressed in unpick white cotton filled with sandalwood and camphor. The cherished ones glimpse for that one last moment and pack like a gift that I never open. I pray forgiveness for the unknown who left to journey the eternity. I pray for eternal paradise, the place the unseen left us for. The gift is then taken on the hands of mine and others who walk slowly to the place. The place is sand; dust and earth, widely open to receive that present which was once hers. Slowly they give up on the gift that once belonged to them. And I throw three handful of fine pure white sand just as the others did. And soon the earth closes above taking that which belonged to her.

I walked away with the many faces that turned and left. Turning back I leave behind again who once smiled at me. How strange it is that in time even that smile will fade like how that precious gift turns into dust and scatter. How strange it is indeed that even those thoughts so enslaved will someday be forgotten like a memoir inked on paper that’s washed away slowly in sea, sun and rain.