ඇගේ කුඩා රුව

I see my mother waving – her unfussed
smiling au revoir, alone on her verandah,
a small figure half-covered by shadow.

I hold her wave, see myself sharing it
eightfold, once for each of us – a wave
we have grown into

as she perfected it, voiced it over years
listening for the two who died,
losses she carried into her skin,
her children – the only trophies
she ever wanted.

Now I search her face
contained, real as light,
hear over her words sewn into
the wave, 'There are many kinds of love
and I have lived some of them.
- Katherine Gallagher

දිනමිණ- වසත් සුළඟ අතිරේකය 12/07/2016