And She Rests- 9 January 2015

The  shrivelled marigold petal and a tiny leaf 
 Hide their  grief
 Under her small wooden temple lying sadly
 While outside the wind blows madly.
On this  coldest day of the season
They curse this unbearable treason.
The orphaned  bulb in the temple mourns the blow unfair 
Her silken , elegant saris watch  silently with a forlorn air.
The trees head bang, and sing a dirge 
Her tiny sandals with the wall  try to merge
Tired but happy 
Of having left footprints for us to walk on
Who said she is gone ?
Hush, hear the curtains merrily  rustle?
Is she standing there?
 In the distance a  mother sings a lullaby
I sigh 
The winter chill creeps into my bones 
Freezing my moans.
I snuggle into her bed, draping the notes
 Of another  long forgotten lullaby around me.
As though obeying the notes of the song ,
 On cat feet ,through the curtains  the breeze   creeps 
While the world sleeps  
I feel a  touch of soft fingers
 Which lingers
 On my forehead. 
Mission over, she departs ,  soft  her tread. 
Slivers of memory,  bird like.   ride 
 The dancing branches  outside
Of the tree that she had planted 
Undaunted, they sway with an  ecstasy unexplained
 And my tears flow unrestrained. 
The show must go on , someone says
And through the daze 
"Hush do not cry child ,"
There is a reprimand mild .
 Is it mother? 
My tears I smother .
She smiles down at me from the photo frame
As the breeze and the boughs play a nocturnal   game.  
The wind  sloughs  a  sad  verse 
And in my memories I immerse 
Which  light up  like firewood  dispelling  the winter chill. 
I lie still
Ears pricked to more long forgotten notes 
Which sail along perched in tiny paper boats 
Of a mummified age
Ah, I continue to rummage.
And rummage  
Clinging to these warm straws
Slowly the night withdraws. 
And out of the dark womb
Is born 
A new dawn 
 Motherless.