Mama

Mama, remember how we used to walk,

In sweltering heat to the orange bus stop,

I did not feel it.

We shared our worries.

Brother, how will father manage,

This grown up child, prone to tantrums.

My deep struggles.

You told stories of war time.

Shellings and shelters.

Canned food under the altar.

Large houses and large dogs,

Familiar platitudes.

Trite, but strangely comforting.

Now I walk the same road,

Sweltering, unrelenting heat,

Tears mixed with the sweat,

Lonely Silence replaces conversation.

But the platitudes remain.

Trite, but somehow comforting.