Today, I am posting one of my poems, which I wrote when my son Navid suddenly outgrew me. Hope you enjoy reading it.
My Son’s Shoes
I was going to throw the garbage outside-
And couldn’t find my shoes,
For my son had just come home -
Not alone but with a bunch of other teenagers.
And my shoes were drowned under theirs.
So, I decided to borrow my son's trainers.
But when I slipped my feet into them
Suddenly it hit me that there was enough room
For at least two more feet of my size.
It was as though my feet had entered two edifices gothic
To be instantly dwarfed by their interiors gigantic.
I couldn't move myself, but was glued to the spot
reminiscing the time when
my belly’s room was enough to hold the whole of my son
his feet, his body, his head. All of him.
Now his feet had outgrown mine
Only to find a road where he could create his own footprints.
For mine were no longer big enough to hold his.
Thus one may conclude that
The heavy weight of time
Makes a mother smaller than her children.
And children bigger than their parents.
And a simple pair of shoes can verify
Time’s extinction and existence.