I watched him break,
As biscuit snaps at a crack,
He broke into total oblivion,
As the joyful voices of their love,
Danced around ecstatic,
They smiled at the presence of their
Withholding the pains of hidden discoveries.
It was torture.
The victim like a snake plotted,
Withdrawing into bustling confinement.
The caregiver, as dogged as a fierce rat,
Stared eyeball to eyeball at the distraught.
The caregiver often weakened and withdrawn,
Yet bursts out with ingenuities of the unexpected,
Taking charge, showing prowess, giving hope.
The victim, a being of strength,
In complete awe at how strength becomes ice,
Melting away in the face of ailment,
How the powerful become powerless,
When nature cannot be arrested.
The victim ponders,
Resting molds of muscles on the giver of care,
This giver who masks pain in order to be the victim’s shield,
To be a sword for battle for the fold.
This caregiver, lifting every load like the laborious ants,
With hidden scars, the giver fights
To hold the fold united in their hole.
But who is this caregiver?
This being of extraordinary inexplicit,
This wonder who walks willingly
With waves of weakness yet never whimpering.
This is the neck of the being,
The holder of the home,
The mother of man.
She endures with joyous pain
The tortures of her predicament
Her life, a thin thread,
Yet she shows little care.
Her care is for the victim, her lover,
For the fold, her loves,
She is care,
She is a hero.
This is to raise our voices to all those mothers who sacrifice themselves in order to care for family members who are infected with COVID-19. You are and always will be Heros.
This was written to respond to Poetry for Paintings.