Skip to main content

DUTY-BOUND by Shernaz Wadia

I wrote this poem long after my beloved mother passed away…

Even as kids, my siblings and I saw her and knew her as the epitome of self-sacrifice. All she got in return after our wonderful dad died were problems and health issues: chronic, painful, debilitating arthritis being one of them. We, her children did what we could to make life easier for her but our mother was always too worried about 'society'.

If there is one lesson we all learned from her example it was not to lose ourselves to the extent she (and even her younger sister) had done in their ‘addiction’ to put others before themselves. We know she understands and blesses us from wherever she is.

Duty-bound
by Shernaz Wadia

duty-bound to a fault
parents and siblings,
husband and in-laws,
children and friends ~

their priorities
a desert storm that
tossed and twirled
whirled and swirled
entombed self-love
duty’s dunes above

she plunged headlong  
and duty, like maggots
in a dank grave
feasted lifelong
on reams and reams
of her secret dreams

she dunked herself
flesh, bone and sinew
and duty, like an ogre 
merciless, unremitting
chomped and chewed
her leisure, passions, self-care
his daily toothsome fare

duty-bound to a fault
aspirations skeletal
but spirit indomitable
epitome of altruism
she bequeathed a legacy
to replicate which is lunacy




Shernaz Wadia is a retired primary school teacher, and lives in Pune, India. Her articles, short stories and poems have been widely published in web journals and anthologies. She has published ‘Whispers of the Soul’, a collection of poems and “Tapestry Poetry” – a genre of poetry, developed by her and Israeli poet Avril Meallem. More about this form can be read here.  






~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~

Comments

  1. Duty-bound to a fault... is almost a trait of that generation.
    A great tribute to a mother Shernaz!
    I can identify myself with you.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Ga...

IN THE STILLNESS OF THE NIGHT by Ginny Brannan

 Just take a moment to pause... When life becomes rote, and frustration grows from being immersed in the same routine—different day, sometimes we need to remind ourselves that peace is still there—within our grasp— if we just take a moment to pause and enjoy the stillness and beauty around us. In the Stillness of the Night  by Ginny Brannan Late winter’s eve and all is still the lawn lies bathed in silver light— gray shadows race across the yard and climb atop the windowsill to draw my gaze upon the sight. I stare out to the moonlit night, across the deck and wooded path fresh–painted by new fallen snow. The scene infuses with delight; this gift inside storm’s aftermath. Half–buried now, the old birdbath lies shadowed deep in indigo— it waits on promise of the spring when arctic chill has finally passed and snow gives way to new green grass. With gratitude, I hedge to go; tranquility allays my soul… I turn ...

STILL I RISE by Maya Angelou

Six years ago, I had the privilege of listening to Maya Angelou speak live on the value of poetry at the University of Florida. I share these reflections with you again today, in honor of her birthday.  I was relieved to get one of the last seats available for this rare event, having arrived at five for Maya Angelou ’s free speech at eight. The historically long line began with people settled into beach chairs in winter coats busying themselves on tablets, or eating sandwiches for dinner. As helicopters hovered above and newscasters below, I felt the excitement of realizing that thousands of people were gathering together to hear an eighty four year old black woman recite her poetry! Maya Angelou speaking at University of Florida on Feb. 27, 2013  When the curtain rose -after an overflow of hundreds were sent away- we lucky ones on the inside greeted Maya with a standing ovation, as she smiled sweetly, beginning her talk using metaphors from nature. Maya asked...