a poem by Kamar Sultana Sheik

To my heir, I hereby bequeath.
All possessions of mine named beneath:
‘Tis my Will that he shall these, in all reverence pass on.
To his pedigree when he’ll be gone.

A new-born’s mittens of woollen white,
A large yellow-and-green paper kite;
A string of pearls, a diamond ring,
An old armchair, a wooden swing.

The mittens hold the treasure of an old woman’s freckled dusky smiling joy,
When she’d knit them for the son of her dear boy…
The kite contains the wealth of sunny mornings bright
When an old man taught his grandchild to fly high, and fly right!

They speak of the glory of hearth and home and shared dreams
The diamond’s dazzle and the pearly gleams!
Like an arm wrapped in ardent consolation
The armchair shall stand in times of desolation.

With its every surge, of Life’s memorable moments shall it sing.
In mild melody, the swaying Swing.
Of the gentle oscillation of happy childhood
And the soaring heights of youthful interlude!

With these, he shall learn of the gurgling Love of pitter-patter feet
Of the chatter of childhood, bitter-sweet;
Of youthful passion, in all its depths and dimensions divine
Of the Love of the undying Spirit in all its Radiant Shine!!!

When long after, the world is a much busier place
And the son has not the time to look at his Mother’s time-worn face:
Then, someday those mittens will him remind,
That once a loving woman for her kin all the time in the world could find!!!

Then he shall tell his child of Love’s various legends,
Of its glorious beginnings and proud ends…
When another pair of hands make mittens for another pair of pitter patter feet,
Then shall be my Legacy complete!!!