another poem by me - 'Burdened' (2)

 ... 

I see a young family, 

Fatherless. 

I assume he’s working, 

And the mother is on the phone.

The kids run around, 

Whilst a distant aunt carelessly chases them. 

The kids look alive, 

A new place, 

A new environment, 

But the mother doesn’t. 

The mother had dark bags under her eyes, 

And whether they are from tiredness, 

Or dread,

I will never know. 

Carrying five bags,

A child, 

And anticipation, 

The young mother enters the boarding gate. 

Her hair is tied up into a bun, 

Messy, 

But practical. 

Going back is a chore for her. 

She doesn’t wear a kameez,

Nor does she wear a dupatta. 

She wears a black shirt, 

Loose blue jeans. 

She mutters words of reprimand to her kids, 

But in Urdu. 

It’s textbook; 

Raised in Pakistan, 

But gone the second she could get away. 

But she can never escape. 

The city calls her back,

Beckons her. 

For this woman, 

It is a family obligation. 

Some stuffy in law wants to see her kids, 

And she has no choice but to comply. 

She thinks of her experiences, 

And those of her kids. 

Her kids are wearing headbands, 

Pants that are too long, 

Speaking in English, 

Running in trainers, 

Clutching Ipads, 

Watching English cartoons. 

What did she have? 

Probably a childhood in dictator-era Pakistan, 

A life of quiet, 

Of silence. 

Of tension, 

Of fear, 

A fear she hoped her kids wouldn’t have to face. 

The plane back to the city by the sea, 

Was an unhappy reminder of it,

Her childhood. 

The city where she was headed, 

was a city of fear, 

And in all the years she has been away,

It hadn’t changed. 

Burdened, 

She hopes her children will not have to face, 

The same experiences she had. 

She tries to escape the city, 

But she comes back. 

The plane brings her to this graveyard, 

A graveyard of unhappy memories, 

Of tension and distress, 

Of sadness and regret. 

All she can do is accept. 

This plane will take her to the city, 

And she has no choice, 

But to accept.