In morning

She rises

To the sound of water


In evening

Her repose

Is the clear light of day



always always

the innumerable Hum:



flooding her brain)



One morning, though,

there will be no rising…

One morning, though,

No clear light of day.


One morning

One morning

Her children will instantly (somehow) know:

Ah, she has dropped the body.

Ah, the butterfly soul!



Oh dear sweet mother,

how long are your days with us?

Oh dear sweet Amma,

how long can your hands hold?

3 thoughts on “Amma

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s