My mother’s hands: A poem by Nisha Tandon

Joy of her life, a cherubic baby I was born
She must’ve held me lovingly in her arms so strong
Her very first touch I’m sure I didn’t understand
But I wouldn’t have let go of my mother’s hand

As a toddler daily when she walked me to school
And it broke her heart to see my pleas tearful
At the gate, for hours alone she would stand
And I could feel the solace of my mother’s hands

Through many heartaches during my teenage years
With her gentle touch, she helped me sail through fears
When nothing seemed to give me comfort and strength
Through the nightmares, I recall holding my mother’s hands

When I got married and crossed the threshold alone
My soul stayed behind though I left her home
When it seemed impossible to cover the huge distance
In spirits, I held on to my mother’s secure hands

When finally with motherhood I was blessed
And began the journey of sleepless nights and distress
I escaped into a retreat at the very first chance
At that instance, my baby slept in my mother’s hands

Today my mother is frail and can hardly see
And I can sense that she desperately  needs me
Every time she has stood by me without ifs and ands
Today I come forward and hold my mother’s precious hands