This is a beautiful poem penned by my Aunt, who is a nun, working with the tribals and locals in Mizoram, Assam.

HOME SWEET HOME

Our parents lit the lamp of love
So many years ago
And poured their oil of faith
To brighten all above

They built a house of wood and stone
But a home with hearts full of love
And polished it clean and bright
With labor day and night

A house is not a home without
Pots, plates and cups
Or flowers waving all about
And children growing up

As the days and years passed by
Their love brought us forth
They wiped our tears when we cried
And watched our steady growth

Our home became a treasure chest
Of joy love and peace
Laughter, shrieks that we loved the best
Anger and fights had no place

We shared our joys and sorrows
Which came on our way
Illness, hardships and problems
That strengthened us night and day

Those priceless years have passed away
With growing and settling apart
Yet sweet memories come on our way
Though we meet and part

The smell of home cooked curries
One can never forget
Flowers, fruits, nuts and berries
And streams shinning bright

You called our parents to be your own
They walk freely your golden shore
Grant us Lord that we may come
And be with them in eternal home


For us now our house of old
A relic of yesterday
The sloppy roof and entrance hall
Just whisper the days of gold

The walls still glow from loving care
Showing all signs of wear
They have seen all of birth, death and tears
And laughter down the years

Our old neighbours all have gone
Who lent their helping hands to all
No books to write no words to tell
I say with Thomas Campbell –

“ The more you live, more brief appear
Our life’s succeeding stages
A day to childhood seems a year
And years like passing ages “

Lord on life’s road we travel
Its friendly flame we see
And may its light keep shinning
Through all the years to be

Sr. Doyline(bottom row - leftmost)