By Mathew John
Poem is written in the backdrop of the demise of the poet’s grandfather.
Grandpa,
when great trees fall,
everything is changed.
Though the wise shall pretend to be wiser,
and quote profusely from the great books,
though the women shall soon find greater grievances
and lean heavily upon the dementia of time,
When great trees fall, everything is changed.
Though the birds flying away shall soon find other canopies,
and the red earth endure the fierce sun like a silent wife,
ahough the elders shall gallantly try to remain stoic,
and stare harder at heavy clouds waiting to shower,
When great trees fall, everything is changed.
Though the years lived well shall try to make amends,
and tears, dismissed, with ready-made rebukes,
though another rain shall wash away the blues,
and a hundred new greens, aim for the skies.
Grandpa,
When great trees fall,
Everything is changed.
At times,
a song erupts, a smile flowers,
and wonder strikes, not unlike thunder.
From unfathomed depths,
which is, not quite, me.
Grandpa, they call it ‘genetics’,
a castrated word,
For the ‘you’ raging inside me.