Have you seen the woman, opening up a sweater?
And knitting it again into something else?
That is my Mother.
She has unravelled old sweaters of my desires..
And has made me a prayer mat!
When my life comes apart, when familiar desires seem insipid..
Mother promise, you will come - and hand me my prayer mat!
Ages will pass
Cosmos will wobble on..
But when I open my eyes
Promise me, You will still be there Mother,
Looking at me, next to my prayer mat!
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