Mater lies before me.

Her earthly torments ceased.

No more half-breaths to take,

Eyes closed, in peace at last.

 

And yet, my tears do not run,

No wellsprings of regret.

Or mourning I perceive,

This curious absence of grief.

 

I never listened.

I never understood.

I never empathised.

I was never a good son.

 

You may think me cold.

Unfeeling, ungrateful,

The heart of a beast.

Yet Mother, I mourn thee.

 

© 2015 Silvester Phua