Angels live in heaven, so I heard them say,
in pristine celestial beauty they glow
as the sparkling stars in the crystalline milky way,
but often they descend on earth, I know.
How do I know, you may ask me,
I’ve seen the radiance in the heart of my mother
as bright as the shine of a star can be,
its luster of love nurtured the flower in me lest I wither.
In times of turmoil when the family was adrift
she toiled hard to grow our roots in a green pasture.
To my deprived uncertain life she gave a gift,
a nest from where I spread my wings on the sky of future.
I flew high in the wake of her protective wings,
the soaring aspirations wild winds couldn’t blow away.
In her shadow I live with her undying love, memory brings,
for it’s her hands that sculpted me what I’m today.
She has left me for her new home a long time ago,
when in dismal night I see the north star glisten
to guide me to my final destination, I then know,
she is the star, now with the angels, shining in heaven.
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