Suffering into silence

She waits for the sun to rise with a hope that is already in pieces.

She waits for the sun to rise with a hope that is already in pieces. The doctors have termed her condition critical, something beyond treatment. But in her heart she has this firm belief that the only thing that can cure her ailing health is her sons miraculous return in her life, while she is still breathing.

Everyday she sets out on the journey to find the whereabouts of her missing son and every step that she takes  leaves a mark, a hollow cavity which can only be filled with love. She is among the thousand mothers whose sons are labeled as 'disappeard', a term that appears illogical, difficult to comprehend and impossible to get. 

Like every other night she closed her eyes for sleep today and this is what she perceived in her minds eye:-

"She is sleeping on a big wooden bed with beautiful carvings engraved on it by a window that is big enough to view a big chunk of the mysterious sky which changes colour according to its needs. Her snow white hair is neatly tied into a beautiful braid, a work of art produced by a creative mind. The stillness of every object occupying a space in this room exhibits their level of engrossment in observing every movement of this fragile creature…but the only thing that flows unremittingly is the time. The merciless dictator. 

The silence of the room is broken by the gentle footsteps of a kind soul. He lovingly strokes his mother's hair and kisses her hand on which time has weaved a dense network of pain and sufferings. She wakes up bidding a temporary adieu to the land of her dreams and is awestruck to see the physical form of her soul, her beautiful little boy. She is rejuvenated with new vigour and excitement like a beam of feeble light forcing its way through a small hole in the harsh winter. Even the time seems to skip a minute to observe this wondrous reunion.

She wept with joy and the tears gleamed under the light of the candle on the table.

It's funny how tears and laughter can fit together in a sentence and still make perfect sense.

Outside, the moon ruled the night sky with the stars at its service. He mostly talked in whispers, afraid that his loud voice may pierce through the frail body of his mother and shatter it into tiny pieces. He apologized for leaving her without a proper farewell, for being so helpless, for all the mistakes he didn't make and all the crimes he didn't commit. And yet he couldn't talk much as the lump in his throat grew bigger, blocking the passage of air. He repeatedly called his mother, sobbing every time after saying it, loving the sound of this word. 

The time regained its pace and the wax of the candle melted at a faster rate due to the warmth of love emanating from this mother- son relationship. The dripping candle weeping at its own extinction. Light extinguishes and darkness is welcomed. She wakes up and screams once, twice followed by a piercing silence…."

She is a woman of substance and her struggle has not ended yet, she may appear weak but her inner strength should not be underestimated. She walks up to the window and stares at the moon reflecting back the light confidantly hoping that her son would be doing the same. At least the moon is the one thing they can share.