(A poem dedicated to my mother)

It was weirdly warm

the night I was born

Was it the shriek of my mother?

or it was the hot weather?


She was as young as I am now

talking to me despite the thou-

sands of moments of her pain

she couldn’t easily contain


The only little thing I did,

was babbling while in bed

She understood me though

but I will never know

the agony she went through

to make me the way I grew


You cared for me every single day

and for you, I will always pray

My own mother, I left you not so early,

You are the one I love so dearly.

Mohammed S Arafat

05-01-2020