My Mother's Hand

 

As I lay on my bed unable to move,

The piercing pain shrieking out of my soul;

All I could remember was the speeding car,

Charging at me like an enraged bull.

I froze and stood, suddenly darkness enshrouded me

Squirming at the visual thoughts, I moaned in agony

When a warm hand soothed my forehead;

Responding to the warmth, I opened my eyes

Holding me close was my mother,

Caressing me with her feeble hands

Instantly my thoughts traversed to the times,

When those hands were strong yet soft;

Those hands that fostered and shielded us;

Those hands that disciplined us;

Those hands that had the robustness,

To cater to our needs galore;

Those hands that did not take the time off,

To feel the euphoria of life

Today those very hands, my Mother’s hands

Though feeble and bony, wrinkled and parched

Was still there for me, ungrudging and unmindful

When the rest of my world, busy in their chores;

Forever by my side, were my mother’s hands

Radiating the warmth, healing me back to life!!