Her face dived into firewood stove
Mother cooked food in an earthen pot
Fire wood smoke choked her heart
Her body remained a skeleton
Flesh and muscles disappeared
With half stomach she condemned hunger
Suffered all the times with in
filled
our stomach full of best food ever
Keeping herself with water filled stomach
We swear with the straw filled hut
We swear with the smoke raising over the hut
We know her pleasant face ever
Not letting us to know her sufferings
The river of tears would flow for a life time
tears
soaked saree would tell her miseries
The fire wood collected from forest
her
hands and legs boozing with blood
Flowers of happiness were blossoming in her
face
Wrinkled face covering her pains and sufferings
Mother waist like a bow down with old age
She gave us light keeping herself in darkness
Her eyes are oceans of miseries
We couldn’t understand her agony
Her wrinkled body
Like a soiled air bag used in a furnace
The cracks in her feet
Would always tried to break poverty
The time when we understood the mother’s
sacrifices
She became a tomb away from my village.
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