Facetime between grandmother and child
Kiran Masroor
Meri Jaan, it is so
good to see your face again
you do not even know
what your face could
provoke within me,
a hundred storms,
every stroke it takes
to rage against
an ever angry sea.
Ammi, you say I have a face
worth waiting for.
I have your open gaze,
his heavy browbone.
A face worth holding,
even if through technology
that freezes my
mascara dark eyes
under your fingertips.
Meri Jaan,
this is a Mother’s
desperate act of holding.
I still remember the pale globe
of your baby head against
my breast.
You were a living, breathing,
swelling, softening,
beautiful thing.
Ammi, I’m sorry I said the word
technology, I know
I should only say words
that are soft enough
for you to string around
your sunspotted neck.
Meri Jaan, this house has
hummed the tiptoe of your feet
across its marble floor
since the day
it met you.
Meri Jaan, one day there will
not be fire in the sky.
This face you love has
come so close to the sun,
to a girl who buys me flowers.
They were roses by the way.
Lipstick red. Is that okay?
All we have left in this life after all
are funny looks across screens.
Meri Jaan, do you know
how many times I have murmured
your name in morning prayer?
Your smile
something
sour.
Meri Jaan, do you see how
Time has made origami of my skin,
my palms now wrinkled paper cranes?
Ammi, I see.
Meri Jaan,
Ammi, my eyes are misted,
Do not hide your face from me.
I do not know why you have left me
teared up.
At least tell me you will
send my love to your brothers.
And maybe I don’t know how to go on and the
backbone of my house stiffens.
Or the ceiling plaster peels
and I never sleep right.
And I know it’s a long shot, but I find myself
staring at the mirror more often.
Just for that second
I swear I see you looking back.