Found this poem in my notes. I had written this when I was in India. At the time my son would gladly go to anyone who was willing to hold him. Now he is a little wary of strangers and takes time to warm up.


Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Do you feel a twinge,
A flutter,
Of jealousy
As you watch your child
Open up his arms and smile
At another?

Like the aroma
You catch in the air
Of someone cooking
It’s gone before you’ve smelled it
But it leaves you with memories

So I feel when I see him
Laughing and playing
In the arms of another
I am happy, yet there is
a whiff
of envy.

I am of course
For this short break
But I can’t help wondering
What is a mother’s role after all

Is she merely a conduit
A vessel to deliver humans
Does her job end there

Is she merely a provider
Of food, and hygiene
A one way supply
Of love and comfort

Is she a spectator,
A guide?

Is her role so easily transferable
Does he really care
Or even know

And then when he cries
And you take him back
And hold him

In the folds of your neck his cries slowly reduce
to sniffles
And then to the gentle snore
Of a sleeping baby
His arm around your neck
Clutching your hair
or your tee shirt

You wonder
Maybe he does recognize you after all
Maybe it is your smell
Of the touch of your skin
The way you hold him

You are reassured
Maybe he does need you after all

One thought on “Amma

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