The following poem by Leena Chacko from Chengannur, Kerala won Ten Thousand rupees in Wingword Poetry Competition 2026.
My dear mother, a mentally frail old lady,
was once a woman of steadfast heart.
But now her gaze at the yonder haze tells a different story;
A story that I find it difficult to decipher.
Sometimes she wakes up before the sun;
before the birds chirp their morning glory,
trying to fold the sheets that was once her duty.
As the day progresses, her confusions begin;
the surroundings, always new and not familiar.
Maybe someone’s house, but never hers; her mind plays with her.
In between her day naps in her wheelchair,
she wakes up to be a stern teacher that she once was,
trying to discipline me with my lessons that she once taught.
Yet other times, she becomes a housewife,
urging me to check if the food is ready.
Sometimes she gears up to go
to a home that once existed.
She tries to get up, her feet not firm on the ground,
her body not matching her determination.
She enquires about the people waiting there,
about the programs that are waiting for her.
As evening draws near, more confusion comes with the dark,
shadows play tricks on her and the past becomes her friend.
Yet in all these, her motherly instincts
always inquire if I had eaten, if I am tired.
The love, that the forgetting cannot erase.
Yet in all these, her evening prayers are a must,
even though words and order are forgotten,
she remembers the “Our Father” and the “Hail Mary.”
My dear mother, as you walk up to the misty mountain,
and as the path behind you fades and your memory fails,
I will always be by your side, holding your hand,
even if you forget that I am your child.
I will shower you with kisses like you once did.
I will sing a soothing lullaby that you once sung to me.
Though worries crease my brow, a smile like yours will be on my face.
Once I was your child and will always be
but now you are my child.