Friday, July 9, 2010

When I come back...

Discarded memories turn to deride

Some forgotten ones on a back-bench day,

They starve on futile, hostile roses

Those grow too late and before no days

Come to pass…pass by any longer…

Nauseous guilt and choked repentance,

And the memories lost run on

Rain adrenaline alone,

The raw, wet hive of sweet ignorance,

Thrive on a frozen besotted pillow—

An attic avalanche,

Despondent to soulful, tearful eyes

And resplendent to the ashes turned to dust,

When memories go senile…

But I shall be good, I shall love

I shall be kind and faithful at last.

When the winters will plead

The trees to protect the earth from cold

Under their swath of leaves

I shall come back

Brighter than gold

And sing to you forever

Of tales untold.

A carved name still embellishes

This bark of our old mango tree

That reminiscently falls through air and lands

Safely on its own swath of wrinkled leaves

Now crunched to mere dirt in their wind-games,

A race to the top of this Hill,

A good father’s pledge, a good nurse’s creed

And all that was left of good wills...

When all is lost in a burnt page,

When I can merely sit and pray---

Let them be good, let them love

Let them be kind and faithful at last…

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