Thursday, April 16, 2009

Mother, my beloved Motherland

You were everywhere.
Yet I searched for you.
In the places of Carnivals,
In the deepest of woods,
In between the locked horns of the wilds,
Among the cries of the flags,
Among the phantoms of the nights.

I came home
I found you
In the nearest corner of my heart,
Peeping behind the curtain of my mind,
Playing with the music of my soul,
Beating the drums of my pulse,
Dyeing the crimson of my blood,
Swimming in the breath of my life

Some say you are a witch
Some say you are an angel
They say you are damned.
They say you are divine.

I came home
To salvage your grave
Where I found
The skull of my ancestor,
The naophum of my ancestral kins
A torn phanek stained with her primeval blood
An old chest that opens with the faint smell of ancient breathes.

Tonight I light the light of my heart
Prostrate in this vast graveyard
With pride or with guilt I do not know
Should I Carry another translucent mortal being in my womb
I a nameless mother waits and waits
To mourn the death of my yet unborn.


  1. Woman understands womanhood. But a woman understanding motherhood, connecting with what you call primeval is just great.

    Just beautiful.