Chai Colored Glasses

Through my mother's eyes:

I borrowed my mother's eyes today
and looked through chai colored glasses.
I saw the world in different hues
and remembered all that I could.

Life was stranger with these glasses on,
life danced to a different song.
My father looked dependable,
My brother looked huggable,
I looked laughable,
but when I looked at my mother,
she disappeared.

Everything moved at the speed of light
with these glasses on,
and everyone moved in blurs,
except my mother,
she was gone.

I searched for my mother then
and found her hiding about,
It seems while her body works,
her mind has walked out.
I visited her mind in a small garden outside
and enjoyed the respite,
for everything here moved at a slower pace,
and there was more Time.

She looked beautiful:
Her hair was braided down to her knees,
She wore her favorite pale gold salwar kumees,
A smile brightened her face
no longer etched with worry.
I intruded upon her solace in the little garden,
but she did not mind-too much.
She let me speak my mind
and so I did.

I spoke until my voice grew hoarse,
and I knew many hours must have passed,
but the garden lay untouched by Time.
She listened to my stories,
to my aches, my pains, my glories.
She listened and said nothing.
When my voice stopped altogether,
and I could not utter another word,
my mother took me in her arms
and murmured
a sweet lullaby.

Her kiss danced across my forehead
the way light skims across the lake,
brightening its countenance
without disturbing its being.

And I finally found,

peace.