Sunday, April 21, 2019

When all is said and done

(with Mom, waiting for Dad)

When all is said and done, and when all the tears are wept,
in the aftermath, of the funeral; alone here we are, you and I
choking upon, our tears and words; watching, the teapot burn
waiting, as if the crowing rooster will bring better news,
upon the hearth, we await, the morning dawn, silently.

Unlike us -the sun, the moon; they didn't change their ways -
the day is as bright, and the night is as dark, as always,
Here again, alone, upon the hearth, we sit - you and I -
wary of the bellows, of the lost calves, unconscientiously
as if they were, to herald, a news, somewhat different
eyeing the closed door- continuously, suspiciously.

Time passed, or so they say; and back to our routine, we try
and in the midst, we thought, of the abnormality of our day -
as if the sky broke, the bitter undigested tears, it rains-
a thousand knives, stabbing our heart, sobbing a riot,
-it's real, it's true, that Dad will, never, ever, be back...

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