My Mother At Sixty-Six -- Kamala Das

Driving from my parents’ home to Cochin last Friday
Morning, I saw my mother beside me,
Doze, open mouthed, her face ashen like that
Of a corpse and realized with pain
That she was as old as she looked, but soon
Put that thought away, and looked out at young
Trees sprinting, the merry children spilling

Out of their homes, but after the airport’s
Security check, standing a few yards
Away, I looked again at her, wan, pale
As a late winter’s moon and felt that old
Familiar ache, my childhood’s fear,
But all I said was, see you soon, Amma,
All I did was smile and smile and smile…