My Mother Lives in Me – by Charmaine Candappa
I see my shadow in the afternoon sun
I see her silhouette
Trailing my footsteps
The stoop of my neck, my gait, my height
My mother lives in me
Mother stands behind me at the mirror
She is never gone
Her memory is as deep as an engraving
Gossamer as cobwebs, delicate as a watermark
My mother is never gone.
Charmaine.
