Z’ma Mor (My Mother)

It was a rainy day
Driving back home
The car steered me
Towards you
Your grave…

Can i ever forget
How much you liked the rain?

The white
Marble of your grave
Sparkled like your smile

Every falling drop
Bounced to embrace me

I could feel you, and
how happy you were
But I could also hear you
Say this
Very clearly

“Za Bachiya baraan de (Go my child, it’s raining)
and you don’t have an umbrella”

Category: Mother poems

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