Maternity: A poem by Shakuntala Kanakagiri

Eleventh-hour nerves and eleventh-hour blues 

So many things to wind up and settle favors and  dues:

Miles and miles to  go before I sleep;

Yards and yards to spin and weave before the beep.

Lots and  Lots of things to set in order;

Lot more things waiting  around the corner :

Where do I start? How do I tie the ends?

Countless tasks still waiting for the amends.:

Time is ticking away, My breath slipping away ;

I puff and pant, rave, and rant;

At my  time's slippy sloppy slant :

Give  me more time, I plead in earnestness,

The Gods are crazy and the Angels cry helplessness.

You had so much of time all along, and you dithered;

You whined  and whiled away your time unfettered :

Pack up  fast, for your final destination is on fast tracks ;

Run, rush or race to wind up your Time 'slacks': 

Pull, push, prod or poke, to get your priorities right,

Do whatever you can with full vigor and might :

Time is ticking away, your breath slipping away ;

Your destination is fast  approaching, in a mystic way :

All your life you lived in a make-believe and elusive sway:

Be ready for the yonder worlds that reckon your presence ever ;

The land of  the Gods and Angels beckon you there forever: