POEM_: Dialogues with Mother: III

I am sorry, Mother,
that is the way it is. 
You have no parents,
I, no offspring. 
And neither likely to be found.

You will never know
how suffocating it is
to be smothered in love. 
And I,
never the pain of growing up an orphan. 
You shall never know, first-hand,
how a child sees his parents;
and I, the view from the other end.

We live in two worlds,
occupying, approximately,
the same place in space-time -
yet unable to reach the other.

- owais

--

This was published earlier in "Love?"

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