You know what scares me, mother?

The length of your arms around me, the ones that held me when I was none

The intrepid response you have to the bickering call of life;

The words that you released to your foes with slashing swords falling on their retort

You know what kills me, mother?

When you wave farewell to your youth for mine;

your joy vicariously lived through my joys

When your response when I learned to respond were ellipses, mother.

You know what makes me angry, mother?

When our space is shared whilst we have the whole world in our hands

The days you live is for yours and the songs we kept singing through time

loses melody

You know what’s left of me, mother?

Your reflection in my face that

has slowly moulded into mine

The legacy you bestowed as

you sang me to sleep

The feeling of your arms around

me while I walk in the streets

The sharp angst with the world

when we could do better

The heart that has no horizon

but beams from people to people

A tongue that calmly sits but a

spirit that prays because I cannot

speak enough in words

What is left

of me,



4 thoughts on “Mileage

  1. Patricia! 🙂 When you are famous (which is going to, unfortunately, happen after you are dead), my decendants will take pride in that we were friends 😛 They will take out all the old photos to prove it! 😛 I love it! Seems like I should go back to class with Mrs Nirmala Mangalat and discuss the Meaning of this thing.

    • You made me laugh about my own death hehe. I strive for real work over than fame. Don’t worry, if and when I am still alive with my published work, you will be mentioned dear friend.

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