My mother’s goodbye


I left my parental home that day
As a young girl of only seventeen years.
The January rain came down, like pin stripes of grey,
My washed- out tracks disappeared behind me
It veiled behind the mango grove roundabout.
When I looked back with the yearning and the grief of native spots
I saw my mother, leaning against the pillars of neighbor’s house
Waving at me, cheerily, apparently.
I knew how she would weep after dinner
After tucking everyone into bed, thinking about my lone room
Inside the bleak hostel walls…
Already writing letters in her head.
Already missing me.

Comments

amazing....jst one word after readin dis ...wow !!!
Nazia Mallick said…
Thank you very much, Vaidehi.

You have a beautiful name!
Pallav said…
Your poems rejuvenate me :)
Nazia Mallick said…
Thanks a lot Pallav. There is such hope in your words.
Basque-Land said…
Stunning description of the sweet pain of leaving home. I know my mother cried and I cried when my daughter left.
Nazia Mallick said…
Thank you Rozanna, once again!

Being a mother now, I too can feel this sweet pain.

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