Mother’s Mantle
She wraps her child
in the old, soft mantle
though the child is
grown into a woman
she has raised
with gentle hands
and tender affection
her daughter shivers
as chill pierces through
holes in the aged fabric
a mother’s excuses
no longer explain
how they came to be
in the first place
through the tight weave
that could never rip.
© Neetu Malik
Some of Neetu’s Books
-
crow flies overhead
I hear pandemonium -
last night’s hurricane blew the roof off
pieces of felt lay on the street like bits of rubber tires -
She needs to dig deep
to pull the roots
that grow under her feet
to do so requires strength -
my room
a sanctuary
at the end of the day -
It must have been
a stormy night
when love flew out the window
of my vacant roomlike a feather
from a molting bird.
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She crosses and ocean to take the holiday of her dreams at an English country estate ... where he works below stairs.
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