When I Was a Child

We lived in a jungle
when I was a child.

I worried about my mother
I worried for her flesh.
For every bit of her emotions.
She always went to the cave alone
I never protected her.
She was afraid of the beasts,
I felt helpless. Little. Small.

We lived in the wilderness
she hated loud voices.

She always wept at night,
I ached.
She felt cold,
I shivered.
She felt weak,
I broke down.

Everything she felt,
I felt it too.
I did protect her from that-
so she never knew.

For my mom was never hungry,
but always craved for love.
She was never bothered by drought,
but always been thirsty for a hug.
She wanted nothing, but her cubs.

I tirelessly poured my heart out
to water her dry, cracking veins,
but uselessly protected her
from herself and the cannibals.
I couldn't help my mom
though I won other battles.

To ease her pain I carved wisdom letters
that even I did not comprehend
I sang her happy songs
and wrote me sad poems
to no avail;
I drew windows, wings, stars and skies.

My selfless mother,
has always been a prey,
they devoured her without salt
she never fought,
but came back to life again
I was always at her back,
but helpless. Little. Small.

I fled the jungle
to a very high tree,
safe, quiet and free.
But there below the branches,
back there in the bushes
there lays half of me.

I am taller today,
my hands are bigger,
but my voice not loud enough,
as helpless as yesterday.

My mom's unsafe,
she still goes to that cave
She still weeps at night
from this height I can hear.
She's still cold,
from beneath this sun
I still feel.

I'm no longer a child,
I still know how to draw,
I still draw,
windows, wings, stars and skies,
but with the beasts still around
she's just broken, she still cries.
I'm imprisoned with her
I ache, I shiver, I break down.

We lived in a jungle,
she still lives there
I couldn't help her
failed to free my mom
though I won the tough battles,
but not this one.

I was a child,
I'm still helpless. Little. Small.
I won nothing
nothing at all..