Mother

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Mother

As a bawling infant, little do I remember
Thou had bathed and clothed, nursed me be.
What would I be without Thee, I do often wonder
This motioned clay is, because it houses Thee. 
 
Like in a dream I do myself see
Perched on Thy lap, and lulled by ill.
Drifting to dream, thy hymn-voice for company
Thou didst banish all that held me in its spell.
 
All offerings I craft through mind and heart
Is yet nothing, for of Thy whole am I but a part.

(Author’s note: Offered to the Divine Mother, on occasion of Navaratri. May we prove to be worthy children of Her.)