By: Taylor Choung Lying down in a small office, closing my eyes, breathing deeply, hearing the distant ticking of a clock, I feel as if I am in an operating room. Once I hear my therapist’s voice, the moment of nervousness…
By: Jigar Brahmbhatt She discovered with great delight that one does not love one’s children just because they are one’s children but because of the friendship formed while raising them: Marquez writes in Love in the time of Cholera. I…
By: Robert S. King Tonight I’ve come to watch my mother die or someone they say is her, who matches no photograph now, who gropes like a child for her mother’s arms, for the mercy of a God who, like a…
By: Wylie Strout A stout woman with Her aged shoulders Broadly raised Flicking sticky tentacles here and there Birthing tentacles yes, here and there Oh, Mother of mine A tough old lady’s aspirations: throbbing, growing, dreaming, tugging, pulling, seizing Seeking the…
By: Ruth Deming Boston Market, crucible of the western world stands as a watchtower on Welsh and York as Evelyn and I enter the air-conditioned splendor with joy and a sigh A long line of hungry people snake around the…
By: Mary P. Douglas My son and I, we live each other’s lives. She said, “That’s good. You can relate.” That’s not the words that came to this mother’s mind. My son and I, we live each other’s lives. We…
By: Kousik Adhikari As the night alights, I fear to look At the drowsing sky, because it’s dark now Dark like the dark- Like the dark ink our mothers Draw on child’s forehead, cursing Satan, cursing eyes, I don’t know…
By: Adreyo Sen When I woke up in the morning, You were gone. I looked for You everywhere. I went to the temple, but You were not there. I went to the mosque, but they said You were long gone. I…
By: Ranjeet Sarpal Your mother has suffered silently. Washing carrots and potatoes She retorted to his numbing indifference And retired to soybean oil . Perhaps she still loves him. She Preserving his complaints and grievances In the pickle jar…