Belated Mourning – A Poem

My mother came to meet me once,

Holding a potted plant.

Was it Daisy or Chrysanthemum?

I couldn’t care less!

She said it will do me good,

 To have another life around my room.

Something I can grow and adore,

 A memento that reminds me of home.

When she left, I looked at the flowerpot,

 I was dismayed, I did not want to keep it, no.

It was a pang of the past-

 How could I nurture a woe to my heart?

It wasn’t easy! it wasn’t just!

To be reminded of memories that rust.

To revisit the sadness and the pain,

For, I had lost more at home than I had gained.

My home was not made of happiness,

It was made of stone-cold walls,

It gnawed my heart,

Claimed my sanity in exchange for shelter.

But then I looked at the plant,

 I thought; what’s its fault?

 It was in my hands to change everything,

I owned my life’s unbreakable reins.

I then started the drudgery-

Tending it even in my misery

A few weeks later the plant bloomed,

Beautiful daisies took away my gloom.

Looking the whites and yellows,

I shed tears.

I forgave my parents,

Let go of the sufferings they made me bear.

That day, I wore a white robe,

For the belated mourning of my childhood ghost,

Rest in peace! Oh, lost one!

I rebirthed with the colours of hope.