Going back home
and mother opened the door and said, “my child, welcome home!”
What could be more precious than a voice of a mother calling her child her own
She cooked my favourite dish and nourished me.
I remember the old villages she tagged me along with,
the faces of folks who admired that lovely child of her- that was me
and mother was so proud
I must have been an angel.
I was with mother when we went to the river
We laundered the soiled clothes then had our bruch of rice and steamed veggies;
sometimes I picked the ripened cherry tomatoes on the river bank.
I remember we went there at dawn
when the moon was shining and its glimmer reflected in the water.
I remember the bridge at a distance and assured me a pathway into my future
The universe will unfold my destiny.