Friday, January 11, 2013

Friday's Children by Afzal Moolla



The Tears she Shed (for Zubeida Moolla)


I remember the tears she shed,
as she longed for her distant abode,
she wept often then, as she pined for her Tasneem and her Azad,
and felt the future looked bleak, on that dim, lonely road.
I remember the tears she shed,
when that telegram came one afternoon,
‘regret to inform you stop father passed away stop’,
She wept often after that, for their last goodbye had been said too soon.
I remember the tears she shed,
on that glorious day in a february not that long ago,
when the prisoner finally walked out, breathing the free air,
she wept less after that, for then she knew where they were to go.
I remember the tears she shed,
soaring high above the clouds heading back to her land,
those tears came out in soft sobs, but her eyes were smiling,
defiant and full of new hope, as she held tightly on to his wrinkled hand.
I remember the tears she shed,
some years later, on that peaceful late april morning,
when she stood and proudly bore the ink on her aging thumb,
she wept a lot that april evening, knowing that a new day was dawning.
I also remember that on a thursday not long ago,
as she was slipping away slowly, she seemed not to weep,
after all the miles and places, and after all the tears that she had cried,
I remember that she wept little then, as she drifted off into an eternal sleep.

Copyright © 2013 by Afzal Moolla

    for my mother, Zubeida Moolla, 1934 - 2008







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