Mum, where do I begin…?: A poem 

Mum, where do I begin? 

Where does a story begin? 

Its fated tale ingrained in the stones of the sky… 

Where do I pick up the threads, then…? 

…in the past of this lifetime? 

…or in a further past? For convenience, 

I’ll stick to the lines of this lifetime! 

You lost your father at six 

to the seas of the Atlantic! 

But your grandparents and mother 

had such priceless fabric, they never 

went knocking at another door 

with a begging bowl, or made you vulnerable 

to the whims of others! Such integrity was not strange to  

simple folk then. Yet our lot was always 

uniquely apart, perhaps! And integrity makes wisdom  

a defining carnation in simple, humble minds! 

You know, Mum, to have scruples means 

you deny yourself many opportunities and advantages 

thrown at you by life… While you did forego much, 

you were always proud! Dignity comes from  

righteousness of the soul, not from pride 

of place among the social hierarchy…and self-respect is 

your throne in your humble poverty; not the  

expensive couch of a wealthy man!  

Mother, you were absolutely inbuilt; a strength 

of character from a voice of inheritance and upbringing! 

For, DNA and RNA are bigger legative fortresses 

than have been actually deciphered and decoded! 

You know, we have a vast lexicon, but the 

rarest, purest, most original sounds go unexpressed… 

They are encumbered and enraptured in souls, 

only being expressed in crucial crunch times, or, if not, 

unawaresly, in little instances and incidents of life! 

Mother, you taught me to discern between 

great wise minds and simple, humble minds with  

great wisdom…As well as the pride of wealth and riches 

and the great wealth in the pride of poverty, humility and sublimity!