In the Name of Love. Part II

She left with her child and a heart in pieces,

But the wounds she bore—time never eases.

We thought she'd call, thought she'd forgive,

But silence is where she chose to live.

My father, rooted in stubborn belief,

Said, “A woman should stay, through joy and grief.”

“That’s marriage,” he said, “no matter the pain—

A woman must never leave the chain.”

And I, too, once thought the same,

That leaving would only bring sorrow and shame.

But watching her break, her bruises, her cries,

Changed what I believed—opened my eyes.

He sent her rations, quiet aid,

Hoping our love, though silent, was paid.

And I—ran for her children’s care,

When fevers struck or pockets were bare.

But still, she shut the world outside,

Let bitterness and heartbreak guide.

She lives now in another’s home,

With needle and thread, she weaves alone.

She no longer speaks, not to me, not to kin,

Not even to the ones she carried within.

Her son, now waiting for Class 12’s end,

No mother’s cheer, no hand to lend.

Her daughter passed with first-class pride,

But no warm hug, no “I’m beside.”

They grow like trees in a stormy field,

No shade, no guide, no arms to shield.

And now—he’s brought another wife,

As if erasing a decade of life.

Another woman bears her name,

While her children live with silent shame.

No child should feel this hollow, this torn,

To be raised by pain since they were born.

They carry questions with no replies,

They look for love in empty skies.

She doesn’t speak, not even to them,

They wait for a mother who won’t condemn.

And I—I cry when no one sees,

Whispering prayers on trembling knees.

Never did I imagine this fate,

Siblings turned strangers, love turned to hate.

But I still wait, with an open door,

Hoping she’ll return once more.

A day may come, quiet and true,

When she’ll see—our love never withdrew.

Until then, I hold her in prayer and pain,

Hoping healing will call her name.