SECRET

Secret by Sonam Tsomo

I grew up in this small room in exile
Eight people, four bed
Our home in exile is not actually a home
But more of a guest house

As we are not in our land
Not an inch to call mine
The walls are not strong enough to protect me
And the tin roof complains when it rains

Often I ask my mother about Tibet
And she would tell me the untold stories lies behind the Himalayas
Sometimes she weeps but I fail to understand why?

My mother, I watched my mother as she lay prostrate
Her missing teeth and wrinkled face.
Her eyes are closed when she prays
As if she is expecting too much.
She cries when she laughs.

She has been through the pain of losing her country
Losing her loved ones
And the pain of never seeing them again.

Once she had a home in Tibet,
The forbidden land she left behind.
I know she is in great pain,
But I wonder how easily
She swallowed the grief.

I know my mother’s secret of hiding her pain:
The deep sigh and the pauses when she talks…
But I won’t complain:
She is a hero because she survives.

I know all her secrets
Of her Crying in the rain.
She is getting smaller every year
Her hair turns greyer every season,

Coming from the Himalayas
Walking on her bare feet
I know my mother’s secret
Of wearing those torn shoes.
But I won’t complain
She is a hero because she survived.