To empathize a dying man is the simplest act of foresight...
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Never did I anticipate,
This calling, this descendance.
The sealing of fate,
The final closure to my persistence.
As I recall the last few decades,
That went by like lightning's brilliance.
Many a times and time again,
Did I ponder upon this moment,
In bed, serenaded by a cold rain,
While I prayed to seek atonement,
Not for any wrong doings - have I none.
But for wasted time and the things I could have done.
A childhood scattered in flogging,
Abused and been abused,
As the years of play and growth of this sapling,
The cultivation that could have been - I mused.
The path I could have treaded,
The times I wouldn't have dreaded.
Being a difficult father, Struggles myriad,
The lives of two young-lings did I nurture,
With only the valued necessities did they braid,
Just to be off on their own venture.
Words roar, apologies whisper,
Ah! The days when it was hard to limber.
What did I gain from the occupation I pursued,
Just some green and a title?
To a desk and a chair - the hours glued,
Was all this really vital?
A wrong turn at a crossroad?
Or a compulsion was I bestowed?
Swindled away of goals that could have been,
Personal wins and content heart - never a sin.
Sacrifices and adjustments like an edited story,
Omittance of aspirations, born unfree.
Shackled to contingency, a half empty glass,
Strung up out of reach, and letting the hours pass.
Decadence of dermis, a candle burned down,
Bleak smiles and cough coupled laughs to the glimpses around.
A third leg, the front end droop, careful not to fall,
Reminiscing how life's first movement starts with a crawl.
Fatigue from the mechanical movements over the years,
No more phobias, no inflicting worries while death leers...
Shrunk to a bag of bones,
Skin ashed and blown with the sands of time,
Bedridden, betrayed by life, my body hones,
For the sweet taste of youth that once was mine.
Now, one with the air that envelopes my being,
I wait till the reaper entrusts me with the departed unseen.
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Harish Iyengaar
21st December, 2010
So sad especially the last stanza.
ReplyDeleteThroughout the poem, recalling the good and bad old days now only a memory.
A good read. Thanks for letting your poetic mind flows with words to be shared with us.
Thanks balqis. Really appreciate your words!
ReplyDeleteI agree with Balqis.... a good piece i must say!
ReplyDeleteThis is so clearly thought that it is almost difficult to believe you can recount all this sad painful experience with out being there!
ReplyDeleteIf this poem is the result of your inspiration, with not real experience, man! You have a suffering soul whispering in your ears all the pain and feelings that can make a poet cry from the deep of human sensibility!
Thank you!!
Thanks arslan.
ReplyDeleteLiam, I was inspired to write this when I saw an elderly man crouched upon the staircase of my dorm corridor much to deep in thought to realize that I was staring at him for full 3 minutes.
A face so struck with grief that his wrinkles were sinking lower and lower as if it were in quicksand.
I felt quite bad for him and just had to empathize. Then the story came into being...
Thanks liam!