Thursday, September 22, 2011

Mother's Day

Mother's Day
by Azly Rahman

Mother
I am at a loss for words
I could just write “Words cannot describe my love for you.
     Thank you for everything …”
           Like everybody said
           In those cards, those poems, those moments of well-wishing
I could just say that
And wait for another year.
     Another celebration.

At each and every breath I take
As each and every thought of every veins in my body that makes me stay awake
Each and every cell I bathe with mantras to
Each and every corner of your womb my eyes glanced through
I want to say “thank you …”
But that would be ordinary
As others too have wished.  Maybe.

I could send you a card
A prayer to your soul
And remind you of a memory of me when I was a child
And tell you where I have been as I walk on this world they called “maya”
I could tell you now what you meant by the path of righteousness
        The path I took
        The road not taken
        That may have made a difference
But mother, on this day of yours
Those would be ordinary.

I am at a loss for words
Unless my thoughts and my words are in the Jawi you know
I could write about the days when I was a child
       Fighting demons
       Strange creatures in my mind
       Out to destroy our kampong
       I fought them alone
       None will ever know
       On those trees
       In the rivers
       In the room I locked myself in
            No one knew . Not even you.
I could write all those on Mother’s Day
But those would be ordinary stories.

Mother on this day I must confess
That I was an existentialist as early as when I started to:
        Climb that tree
        Sneaked out of that wooden back door
        Jumped out of those old Javanese looking windows
        Roamed the city alone in my Japanese slippers
        Walked along the huge huge water pipes that lead to Singapore city
I was an existentialist, mother.
I cared about the Universe
But did the Universe care about me?
I wanted to tell you all these
On Mother’s Day back in the day
But my story would be ordinary.
     Plain ordinary.

You combed my hair daily
Laced it with Brylcreem
Masked me with Cuticura talcum powder
Tucked my shirt well into my neatly pressed pants
You held my hand everywhere I go
Afraid that the world would take me away
You held my hand tight as we crossed roads
Afraid that I would come to multiple crossroads
I wanted to tell you all these Mother.
          On the following Mother’s Day.
Back in the day.
Ordinary story to me.

Mother you are sweet
You said I had beautiful eyes
Those eyelashes too
Eyes that came from the depth of the night
Somewhere you and I may know
I saw you smile
When many came to look at my eyes
But what have those eyes seen now?

I don’t know how to say “Happy Mother’s Day”
That would be too ordinary to you and me.
I can only feel everyday is your day .
    Though for many years I was sent away.
        Like an anarkin.

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