We beseech you to stay.
Stay you must this time around,
mother said.
We recognise you from your
many previous visits.
You must stay and find for yourself
playmates on this side of the realm.
Heartless, I know you are.
But you must acknowledge
that this womb is tired
and I am almost past my youth
This body is tired
And the breasts are losing the
freshness and sweetness of its juice.
These eyes are tired
The reservoir in them are dry.
There are no more tears to shed.
Stay, I beseech you.
Sit here and savor the joy of this world
There is joy, beauty and riches here
on this physical plane unknown
to you and your kindred.
The joy and riches of this world
you must savor.
And the Almighty shall preserve thee.
Stay, you must even if my prayers
are nothing to you.
Stay you must, though our propitiation
means nothing to your kindred spirits.
It is true that when a child has
perfected the act of dying,
the mother perfects the act of an
unhonourable interment.
But this mother here would rather
the act of detainment.
This mischief of round-tripping
is here ended.
The exit door has being blocked.
Stay you must, my child.
Stay.
*June 2019
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem