How I learned she wasn’t a horse
by Aparna Pathak

Sweating tresses and a territory of flour on her forehead
that would resemble a different island every time; my mother
didn’t have the option to change the pace of
her running within the province.
She wore invisible blinkers; selective mechanism shriveled
her focus just on us whether we were around or not.
Up with imperial horsepower, I didn’t see her relaxing ever.
They say horses sleep while standing up.
But now a mother myself,
I know she wasn’t a horse.

IMAGE: “Horse Face” by Octavio Ocampo. 

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I wrote this poem while I met my mother recently and realized how hard she worked to make us what we are today. Her whole focus was just on us (my father, my brother, and me) and she never complained. As it is said, we realize worth of our parents only when we become parents; I understand her more today than ever — that is my metamorphosis.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Aparna Pathak is from India. Her work appears in Poetry Life and Times (Spain), Reflections (UK), Negative Suck (Atlanta), Poetry 24 (UK) Rolling Thunder Press (UK), Blue Cygnus (India), Earthen Lamp Journal (India), and Creatrix – A Journal of poetry and haiku by WA poets Inc.(Australia), Lost Tower Publication (UK) Inner child Press, and various anthologies like Nivasini – Celebrating India. She is not a photographer but she has an eye for unique surroundings that resulted in one of her photograph getting selected by Rattle Magazine (US) for their Ekphrastic Challenge contest.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ON THE PHOTO: Taken in the car, while I was coming back to home after meeting my parents.