Oh mother, they ask you,
"Where is your prodigal son?"
And you have no
response.
It
pains my heart.
My heart wishes to be with you,
To spend time with you.
But
still
I can't.
Oh mother, they call me,
"The prodigal son".
And you have no response.
I know
that
you wait for me,
With your outstretched arms.
I want to come and hug you.
Sit
with
you and recount my past.
Oh mother, I want to tell you.
Tell you about my love.
And about my escapades,
The
escapades with my love.
But I am mute,
My lips tightly stitched,
Unable to
narrate
you anything.
Oh mother, will you be there?
When I come back?
Will I ever be able to hug you?
Or
will I remain casted as the prodigal son?
Will I ever be able to become
Your dear
son,
once again?
Oh mother, my silence is deafening.
I want to tell you.
But I don't utter a
word.
Even the sacred word 'love'.