With sorrow she approached me, to speak of her son.
She seemed a broken soul, mistreated by him…
She thought that he valued her so dearly,
He who was part of her own fesh and being.
Wounded, she came to me when her hopes had been dashed,
She came with pain that no time could measure.
She said: “After his father’s abrupt demise,
I took care of him, and raised him so dearly…
An orphan with no place for shelter,
A mere infant, still sleeping in his cradle…
For his sake, I took up a servant’s job,
Hoping nights’ promise would someday be fulflled…
Years went by, and he grew into a man,
The day I awaited had fnally arrived.”
She paused right then, with silent tears,
Running down her cheeks, her pain I could see
With a broken voice, she spoke once again,
Of how he threw her out of the place they called home.
At frst I kept silent, my soul was enraged,
By the cruelty and injustice, brought upon her.
I said to her: “Your rights were denied as if in a lion’s den,
They will be returned to you, after the beast’s defeat…”
With an intention to help in such diffcult times,
I called for him, to reprimand his wrong-doing.
My words were interrupted by her pleading voice:
“What are you doing?” she asked with a startled tone.
“I am his Mother, sir, do not condemn him.
How can a mother’s heart oppress her own child?”
How vast is her forgiveness, how tender her heart?
When empowered she pardoned and forgot his cruel deeds.