‘God could not be everywhere and therefore He made mothers’ ——-Rudyard Kipling
We begin our life’s journey from the safest haven, the mother’s womb. Mother’s nurture their children right from the moment she conceives her dream to be a mother through when the foetus grows in her through the nine months of gestation, and finally enduringly goes though the throes of birth pangs to show her child the light of the day.
She puts her child before her right from when she starts to become a mother. Pregnancy warrants change of physical appearance but she does not cower from eating right to ensure the healthy growth of her baby inside her womb. Then follows childbirth when the divine will power of a mother enables her to undergo the severest physical pain to bring her child to this world. And then the lifelong journey of growing her child as she grows as a mother simultaneously. A most rewarding phase of life that it is, a mother learns to begin by protecting her child every moment, nursing, changing diapers and being by its side 24/7. As the baby grows, she gradually learns to loosen her grip and let her child go from the cocooned shelter of her arms into the wide wild world, where the child learns to adapt to new environments like the school or the playground, honing his/her social skills, adjustability and adaptability.
The mother watches over her child from a distance, closely monitoring the growth and progress of her child, She ensures that her child is safe, secure, healthy and carefully plays the balancing role of hand-holding and letting go, and of being a friend a teacher. Perhaps it’s instinctive but there is an invisible umblical chord that keeps her connected to her child/ren no matter how old they are, or wherever in the world they may be. Her love for her child is endless, selfless and unconditional. Nothing is of more importance to her than the well-being of her kids.
It is through a mother that God exemplifies the purity and power of His love.
As a tribute to the glory of a mother, we have included two poems on Mother in this section from poets of the Second Circle of the Bahrain Writers’ Circle.
By OAK (Omar Ahmed Khulaqi)
She has the roughest palms I know,
beating that soulful dough;
the night’s blanket over my eyes,
healing kisses—starlit lullabies.
Her kitchen was the temple’s bell,
her cooking lingered like a spell.
She’s an immigrant and I was her boy,
mute flat-walls dulled her joy.
She’s much better now, that I’ve seen
and I’ve forgiven her for all that’s been.
When I visit her I’ll always be seeing
the hands that sculpted a human being.
<Plz insert second poem>
By Vaijayantee Bhattacharya
You are the light in which I breathed my first
The darkness which nestled me
The fingers that clenched me in a grip called love
And held me unflinchingly
From before the I in me was born
Through moments when the I in me
Is battered and bruised
To when the I in me resurrects again.
You are the warmth that surrounds me when I most need love
A love everlasting that needs no words
Those eyes that weep in my pain
And smile boundlessly in my joy
You are the wind that has egged me to soar higher
The calm that has doused all storms in me
I believe there is a reason
Why we belong to each other Maa
A reason that can’t be spelt
But only felt in overwhelming tears as I write this
You are me turned inside out
My rough edges mellowed with your time
My protests merged in your prayers
The perfect cocoon I sheltered in before you pushed me to life
The perfect refuge I push myself to
From life at its ugliest
Your womb is where my soul sleeps
Every night after its first waking
As you are me turned inside out
And I am myself because you are with me.