Being
in a starvation was the best friend of mine since I was six
do
not expect it due to a religion-thing or fasting
cause
I didn’t know what it was like to have a faith like
you.
It
was 1962 when my father passed away without telling me that
there was a grief among those delightful feelings, leaving the
housewife-mother with 4 children I was number 2.
I
went to school at the morning wearing black plastic bags
to cover the toes while friends already had their shoes
to cover the toes while friends already had their shoes
it
didn’t matter cause it’s only five kilometers.
And
worked at the noon
for
wasted rice as a return
sometimes
nothing at all that made my mother mad and sad.
It
was fanciest dinner when she could buy an egg for five of us once a month.
Other days without works,
water was enough.
I
remembered the day
when
my mother screamed and extremely exasperated
it
was an exhausting day
after
school, peeling the coconuts, lifting dozens of kilos of rice, cleaning up the cowshed
I
could not stand the hunger. I ate three spoonfuls of eggplant soup supposed to
be for dinner.
She
pinched me three times and three bailers of cold water from the well
over
my head, not allowing me to come in before the three freaking hours.
Promised
myself would not do that to mine.
Now
life is much better. Four children of mine
three
have married one told me to wait.
No
one is failing making me proud and pleased
Only
sometimes too busy to make a phone call.
Only
sometimes too distant for the appointment.
Only
sometimes I feel that no one stays
leaving
our spacious house frightening even more with the heavy rain
the
desolation haunts the longing hurts
Even
more than more when my husband starts to grumble, the chest pain, the heavy
breath, the itch...to whom should I rumble when they know me as the bravest, the
strongest, and the vigorous.
It
is the hardest thing to live as others’ imagination.
But
somehow they should’ve known
a
mother is a human too.
- - Inspired
by a mother of four
