**This poem is about a girl like you and me,who loved her mother,
but ‘ME’ have lost her mother,
Death is not “UNCOMMON”
It will come to me,it will come to you,
I met death,every day for two consecutive years,
To see your creator dying,is not less then dying own-self,
A part of me is Dead,the BREASTS who fed me are Dead.
When the back moves,the pain is sensed,though shall the soul feels your separation..
In grief of the physical body,i get up in the middle of the night,to touch your spirit,
I can not sleep..
I dip my wounds,in Papa’s love,and wrap it with him(my lover-as a bandage),even then the wound does’not heal..
I am bleeding..
I blow a gentle air at the wound,but the wound bounces back,who shall medicate me?
I shall zip my lips tight, lest the world does’not hear me cry,
I will digest the bite of separation,baked by the destiny,
I wont beg at the door of heavens,you must there be in LESS-PAIN?
I am afraid,will you wait for so long?
When i am Dead,i will make the best tea for you.