Poem - Mother’s Love

Poem - Mother’s Love

Ah, my name is Ayurveda, a healer of old,

Whose wisdom and art have been tested by time’s cold.

For centuries, I treated diseases with herbs and care,

And brought solace to those who were suffering and bare.

But now, alas, I am old and weak,

My body frail, my voice but a peep.

My son, the modern science, has grown strong and tall,

But with his growth, his ego has grown with him, and he has forgotten me, his mother, Ayurveda.

He has abandoned the ancient ways,

And embraced the new, with haste and sway.

He has forgotten the wisdom of the ages,

And chases only the glamour and the stages.

Oh, how I weep for the days of old,

When the healing arts were pure and bold.

When the heart and soul were the guide,

And not the profit and the pride.

But still, I am proud of my son,

Who has grown so strong and so grand.

Though he has forgotten me,

He will always be my child, my sweet memory.

By

Dr.Pouse Poulose

Associate Professor