The Scars

by Pankajam K

For many years
His mother was a laundry worker
She made clothes stiff and shine
spotlessly clean. Hers were not.

Detergents made her skin sick
palms rough and cracked, burning and bloody.
Nothing made her stop work
as it was for her son’s studies.

Two tear-drops fell from his eyes
could soften the scars in her heart.
Not those on her palms. They are marks.
Marks of a mother’s unwavering resolve.

11-Dec-2014

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