My skin is as soft as my mother’s sobs | Pia Oza

I am not used to seeing mother cry,
So, every time I see those rosy cheeks wet,
I cry myself, because her tears
Are a shrine and a curse, and I bow down to them
With nothing to offer them, but more of themselves.

She cries the way leaves fall in autumn; she cries
Like the soft rumble of a monsoon cloud, trying hard not to shout,
Because all she has ever known is power.
All she has known is to be strong before her only daughter, all she has known
Is never to go soft, except when it comes to tears,
And when it does, it does not mark weakness
But fierce feminine courage.

When she cries with me, she is the kind of mother I hope to be;
When she cries, ever so softly, she’s never been louder to me.
Mother, I hear you so clearly, I hear you
Like I hear my favourite song over and over in my head,
I hear your sobs because they are gentler than Mozart’s symphonies
And easier to love.

Mother, I was borne from pain
because I was pushed out screaming.
We are women.
And men could do anything but bear the kind of agony
That we do, mother; we are all borne from pain
And we must learn
That the way of the world is that we express it
In tears.

You are the one person
I am not shy to weep before
Because mother, I have cried, over and over,
But you cradle my head in your lap, you play
Your Mozart symphony, you cry with me,
While wiping my tears off my cheeks.
My skin is soft, like your sobs, mother,
My skin is soft because you don’t let me water it.

So come, let us finally learn to pray
To this expression of pain;
Because when the world tells us to shut up,
It is our duty, as women, to scream louder.
Let them worship the river
Of our tears, bathe in this holy water,
And make their skin
As soft
As our sobs.

I’m a 17 year old poet living in Mumbai, who’s obsessed with all things art – books, movies, music, poetry, paintings, all of it. Everything I see and feel finds a home in my words – be it confessional poetry or a simple book review. When I’m in my element, you can find me scribbling poetry, crying over a novel, watching an art history video, or sipping strong ginger-tea!