A Mother’s Touch by: Fatima Azeem

 A Mother’s Touch

by: Fatima Azeem

My young mind didn’t forget the smell of food

The blessed dishes that my mother makes

It doesn’t forget the sound of her voice

Even as I try to sleep

Whether it’s loud or quiet, I can still hear her.

If she’s here, she’ll make it known.

And when she’s not, I’ll still hear her in the back of my head. 

She’s like a candle, and I’m the moth.

I want to stay no matter how bright my eyes burn.

And I’ll grow, and wish she could still let me lie in her lap

As her hand glides through my hair.

But I know she’ll push me off and say I’m too heavy.

Just like she did when I was younger.

Just like she’ll do now, even if I never put my head near her lap. 

When you live with the person you reached out to for so long,

You can tell what they’re thinking or what they might do next.

Only now, I don’t know what I’ll do,

To make sure I never lay my head back down,

Or go near the bright candlelight that I lit myself.