Mother Teresa ~ a collaboration

Mother Teresa ~ a collaboration
This is officially my first collaboration. I am fortunate to be able to do it with Dajena, one of the most imaginative poets I have come across in WP. Take a look at her blog @ MOONSKITTLES for both poetic delights and enlightenment.

 

Your thoughts flower sweetly in our hearts
For flower bud, your name was given to you.
Mother full of devotion, care and grace.
Loving the sick, the broken widow, the poor.
   
A white flower hemmed in blue, a rosebud
born during the dying days of an empire,
amid chaos, upheaval, bloodshed and genocide,
then as a Loreto in Bengal you arrived!
   
Your light shone right away, with kind acts.
Your words inspired, hands healed, smiles rejoiced.
The life you lead, a lighthouse of Holy Scrolls.
Actions of love you gifted to all the broken souls.
   
O mother, O dear mistress of the Holy Son,
your calling came amid the din of partition
to be a servant of the poorest of the poor
and make the destitute leper your kith and kin!
   
But soon a rousing wind began to lash   
its’ tongue against your stance on abortion
and your affinity with the top echelon,
propagated by people, happy in doing naught;
people, who as soon as something is being done
must cry aloud, admonishing its forms and thoughts!
Woe, such bitter tongues did not even spare Yash’wa
but with your heart pledged to him, it was natural!   
   
Your ardor to our Lord, inspires young and old.
Your life led by the light, a crown of our world.
When we feel like we’re just a drop in grand ocean
your words urge to find meaning within. 
Icon of compassion, poor and disadvantaged,
your love crosses borders, defies casts.
Your Albanian roots, you never forgot
nor your mother’s piety and urges to love.
   
Earthly goods meant nothing to you
for your treasure was nothing but God.
  
Throughout life your love for the poor had never ceased to flow,
thus in death too you shine from where the eternal beings glow! 
.

*Agnes Gonxhe Bojaxhiu is Mother Theresa’s full name. Gonxhe means a bud of flower in Albanian.

 

My Purpose

My Purpose

          

At last I have found the way I must tread upon,
the path almighty God has sent me down to walk,
on a backward running clock, where the past alone
is revealed while the future remains in the dark! 
             

Almost two scores of years have passed since the day
I was born, a helpless and tiny human child,
then my mother fed and nurtured me, though in pain
herself, like a demigod, fierce yet no less mild
and my father earned the sustenance for us both,
while they taught me to be both innocent and wild!
           

Well, no I have not forgotten my helpless years
and so till they are laid to rest I shall be here
but then I must depart, for I have found my dream,
to spread the fair light where no light has ever been!
           

Yes, I had wives too, I know but can you call
a woman a man’s wife, when she does not even
comprehend, let alone interpret his simple thoughts,
be honest and frank and let me know if you can!
Do you know that years ago I had a child too,
until it died out of breath, turning steel and blue!
           

So, once I have buried all that is revealed so far,
to tread on the path shown to me, I must depart
and respond to the insistent calls of my dream – 
to spread the fair light where no light has ever been!
         

Until I too shall be laid to rest when the time
runs out in that preset clock, we have termed as life!

   .   

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A Short Letter to the Refugee Convoy

A Short Letter to the Refugee Convoy

Dear Members of the ‪#‎Refugee_Convoy‬,

Greetings from the Humanoids! You have shown that there are still a few human beings alive in the world. May be not here but the world is bigger than a subcontinent. How can I be grateful enough for your consideration of the survival of my fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters and children too! The world and humanity owes an immense debt to you. Wish a poor beast like me could help your grand cause!

You have my heart!

RGDS

Mars

Mars

Riding through the wastelands of tomorrow,
inhabited by blind beasts like you and me,
a spirit with its ride spurred by the howling wind
might come and seek my tribute to the god of war.

Well I shall ask for my sight in return
and then, once I have seen the destruction
of my mother by me, I’ll let him have
my homage to the crimson locks of Mars.   

.
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No Conditions Applied

No Conditions Applied

Can an eagle ever forget how to fly,
once it has tasted the freedom of the sky
on its beak, talons and wide, feathered wings
or a peregrine, the speed of its dive,
swooping down on lives unsuspecting
of the danger, imminent from above;
then how can I stop myself from falling
in pure reflex for the wild charms of love?

The spell of love has infiltrated my soul,
as early as my heart, though minuscule,
started pumping my mother’s blood inside me,
rich in selfless love for her unborn child.

In my mother’s womb I learned how to love
selflessly, with no conditions applied!