Her cradlesongs had, much to regale!
The soul of day, on the lap of night
My squeals were the solace, of her truths’ travail
Like the spirit of a, restless tethered kite

“Oh mother! Why you hide behind tears!”
Was the quest, of a half-baked boy
“Look thru them me, my many years
They’re the prisms, of my pain and joy”

And I suckled on her soul, until manhood
Made me, see that woman in her
Still baking love, on smoldering wood
She set my heart, my soul astir

Long gone are days, of cradlesongs
That megalith lost, in spent cultures
To the sense of substance, new age belongs
That age now, at time’s pittance, when mothers were martyrs

© 2016 Vikas Chandra