The Orphan

‘Oh! Mother dear!’ someone whispers in love.
The soft syllables within me stir the tempestuous oceans of grief;
A loving call to her, but heavy blows of a sharpened axe to me.
Whom can I call ‘My Mother dear’; she is not in the home or on the earth,
This flaw in happiness stabs my heart all time.
Lord of Heaven and Earth, even He a pauper for want of a mother to cheer.
The sparrow puts a morsel in the tiny beak of her fledgling peeping out of the nest,
A glance at the pen reveals the cow licking her suckling calf.
The selfless love of bird and beast, a daily sight to me,
Stirs to the core my hungry yearning soul, a torture rending me.
Who will clasp tight to her bosom a weary boy from school?
And feed him with dishes rare, kept aside for him alone?
And who, Oh! who will fervently long to kiss his sticky lips?
Who else will fawn and fuss over such trifling odds for me?
Who will light the vestal tapers in the shrine at home
And teach us to mumble our evening prayers?
My little sister–a guileless tiny tot,
Unconscious of this irreparable loss
Bewildered to see my welling eyes
Accepts the reason without a question or doubt.
She tells her playmates with a wise nod and toss of tousled hair,
"Motherless orphans are we, Oh yes, we are."
How the simple words touch and sear my soul!
When will you return home from your endless journey, Mother dear!
Linger not a moment, come with the speed of wind or light;
The strings of my heart and the web of my life
Are tuned for ever and centred in thee.
Come oh! Mother, to resume your loving mission on earth,
No, I surely will not mind your rebukes and angry words;
Shower your censure and anger if you please, but come oh! come my Mother dear.