Monday, February 15, 2016

"when you were born I planted a tree..."

In this story,
I am that tree 
who today presents to the world 
a hard bark
which is so very thin,
barely hiding beneath it 
the sapling still there:

soft, vulnerable, naive;
sprouted from a seed planted
so few years ago.

A tree who, on occasion, thinks
he is done growing up;
thinks he is ready to face anything 
thrown at him by the world
though he is still untested by 
her storms, her droughts, her winters.

" it's twice as big as me."

In this story
I grew up, but
along the way hurt you. 

Today when I look back at
those years in which I 'rebelled',
I could almost laugh at the idiocy of my own actions. 
But should I laugh,
with the knowledge that
those stupid actions made you cry?

So here we are, ma.
In this story
I now walk up the stairs 
leading to the paediatric ward,
past a window which reads:

"When you were born I planted a tree;
now it's twice as big as me."

to meet ill children and worried parents.
Parents who understand that I am not yet a doctor 
but regard me with trust reserved to one.

I don't know if I deserve that trust. 

How can I feel ready to be a doctor when
I barely feel ready to even be called a man just yet?

When I see that painted window
I remember you:
The lady who will always be 
my first best friend, 
my number one fan,
my hero,
my mother.

Happy birthday, ma
(and happy anniversary to you and papa) 😬

I hope you will be at peace seeing me continue growing up,
with the knowledge that I will always be your little boy 🙃

Love you, moosh2, assalamualaikum.. :)

work of non-fiction