Identity ensures sacrifice.

Once I sold my gold for my sister to wed.
I had a pride on it.
Now when my mother has given her hers
I am piqued by it.
My sister and I are liberated from the identity.
At my mother’s age I may emulate her.
How will be my son for his sister?
27.04.2001, Pmdi

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!