Ma, you have been silent
all these years
and now
suddenly you are talking to me
I don’t know why.

All I have of you
is a framed face
in black and white, taken
even when
you were so indisposed.

I thought of placing you
amongst Gods and Goddesses
but your smile-
subtle and mystic
looks so full of life.

The eyes, ever so conversant
eagerly tell me stories
of forgotten times
like when I came to you
pregnant with my first child,
and you laughed at me
the way I talked to the newborn.

It isn’t easy to know
looking at your eyes
you were in pain.
They convey to me many things
many times.
But, Ma, I don’t understand these signs.

Don’t leave me mixed up
with the matters of dead.

I am still alive.