Carmine Branco
Mama
- Mama take me
- by the hand once more,
- teach me how to pray
- again with the ancient
- words that were used before.
- Mama speak to me
- as you used to do
- to soothe my troubled heart
- from fear and pain and make
- my mind grow young again.
- Mama let me see
- your smile once more
- and hear your laughter
- fill my ears with a hope
- for life and forget that
- surreal vision of you
- who are no more.
- Whom shall I tell
- now of joy and pain
- and of my angry years
- and of those which will
- set me free and feed
- my soul of future days,
- where together you and I
- grow forever young?
- Now the house
- is there and the land burns
- flowerless and your child’s
- child has mirrored you in
- a generational birth
- which tastes of reincarnation.
- But the most precious jewel
- of my whole world won’t be
- there to see. What a terrible
- loss for this offspring
- of man, which will only know
- what he or she can imagine
- whilst I’m left forever numb,
- hoping to meet and rest,
- in your womb like way back then.
- Mama, will it be I to take your
- Infant hand? I your guide or
- just a presence in your mind,
- if only just, to love you till
- I go to sleep on a bed of rocks
- and we might never meet again?
- Mama I pray that you speak again
- and dissipate all my darkest clouds
- that are far from your heaven,
- but are my enduring helll
- on this particle of dust,
- we call earth and Armageddon.