M Haroon Jatoi
Dear Son! There is No need to define myself because I’m lady Who you used to obey,you used to kiss my feet When you went to Earn To burn Hunger of Stomach and Kindle the candles of home, You were Butcher, the baker ,the candle stick maker and Feather In Cap of Your mother.You know Fishing Was not our Cash cow but it was Being Done by you to Do Pains in and Punch the poverty.My Apple of eye! Poverty is not permanent Position, do you miss Movement When you Were Very happy and your smile was Showering The side of Sea And wicked words Will be Making me Wear black dress Until the cows come home which you Said on Wedding Ceremony of you “Mother! Today Sea is Rough ,Air has become astute, Weather Is Making Fender bender but How will it dare to Disturb Dancing of my Little Sister Who Is On the go in Singing marriage Songs (Sahra) and I’m like hero “. My dear! You Should realize This reminiscence .It rains in my old eyes daily Because in these days I Cry daily, Crows On Roof of Ruined Home fly daily And Flower Which You Brought By your earning Has only Dust, I don’t know when you Will return?When happiness Will whistle on your bed? Your Bride is made marry With Another Person And that movement is death of me, that Pain is Death of Your Sisters. My dear! If your bride Marries to other, that doesn’t matter, If you Return I will bring Thousands of Brides for you but You don’t return. My Lovely Son! You are under the thumb of Forces Of India, They Would be Beating And dissing you but pain of Missing Mother would be Most painful .My brave son! You never cry, you can’t cry, You Won’t be Weeping because Prayers of Your Mother Are Protecting you, These are Encouragement in Dark nights and Hot days.May My prayers bring fruit and you return Safe Amen .
Your Mother Who Sews Sorrows In Quilts