any other presence
in the kitchen is a threat
to her empire...
none knows her pots and pans
and the purpose they're for
except herself...
cooking is her forte,
she believes; none can be
as good at it as her
she can't relish what others cook
to her, she is the ultimate!
pain she gulps
smiles she shares
doctor, she never needs
for nothing can touch her
is her belief...
slightest bruise
mildest pain
on others is
what she can't tolerate!
condemned to glorification
trapped in stereotype
motherhood, she is a victim
of utopian motherhood!
ode to one's mother
is ode to every mother
nurtured and reared
on the fact that women
cease to be human
once they're mothers!
indira babbellapati
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-all-mothers/
