By A Jessie Michael
Who said you could die Ma, Just because you are old? The Ganges is called mother. Like her you have flowed long, Tributaries and distributaries webbing wide around the world. You have lived so long in this world, How will we breathe Ma if you die? Your blood in our veins is our webbing. A river dos not dry up because it is old So who said you could die mother Just because you have lived so long? We are mothers with a mother, Living in another world. We have missed so long your laden table, dishes to die for, and curry rice balls of old. The stories of your history is our webbing. We still do not know the webbing Of the food of the mother -- Land, recipes of old, Food of the gods from another world. Our taste buds will die Not having tasted them so long. We have loved you so long, How will we mend the webbing Of the delta when you die mother? You are the Ganges of our world. You are eternal, not old. We have also grown old and our shadows are long. What will we do in this wide world but cling desperately to tattered webbing Please stay. Breathe mother Who said you could die?
A. Jessie Michael is a retired Associate Professor of English from Malaysia. She has written short stories for online journals, local magazines and newspapers. She has published an anthology of short stories Snapshots, with two other writers and most recently her own anthology The Madman and Other Stories (2016).
PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
Borderless 