Your Feet

I remember your face,
That blessed place.
Your eyes,
A thousand cries,
Not of weakness, but of sacrifice.
Those pearls watched me,
From Night till sunrise.

I remember your lips,
Oh, those lips,
They parted to open a class on life,
Love,
Humanity,
A fortress.
And when they closed,
They opened the school of life.
A silence,
Greater than a thousand words.

I remember your hands,
Hands that held me tightly,
Yet so gently,
Against your chest,
Plugging me in to the music of life.
Gentle beats that said,
“Don’t worry, I’m here.”
Those hands spanked me when I erred,
And rubbed off the pain when I learned.
Hot,
Cold.
A touch so priceless it could turn Midas to gold.
Your simple gestures,
Could move a thousand Orchestras.
So much mastery!
Or mystery.

But most vividly,
I remember your feet.
My Paradise lies beneath it.
Your soles hold firmly to my Eternity,
Just as your left ankle radiates your piety,

My Paradise lies beneath your feet,
And even with this wall between me and it,
6 feet thick,
I still seek it.

They try so hard to fit in to your shoes,
They fail, very miserably.

Que Sera Sera,

What was, was meant to be,
What is, is meant to be,
What will be, will be.

One day,
One moment,
What you are,
I will be.
We will be.

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Tagged: Mother, Paradise, poetry