My Dad’s Last Moments
Author: M B J Pancras
There’s my dad stick to the bed of the old age,
Looking as if he’s in his second childhood,
I perceive him with my inward eye how he moans all alone,
How stately was he in his youth!
An episode vitalized, splendidly fragrant made.
Wilt thou awhile envisage him in my feelings
Engraved in the eternal art of life?
His beginning was a glory in its radiance,
The depth of his countenance enchanted the millions on the whole.
He made a dramatic entry on the stage of life.
Did you know how expectantly he looked for future rainbows?
Behold! He’s become a child lying on Natures’ bosom.
Look at his movements on his bed, so bleak and black to watch;
Like a knight with his brandishing sword, those days were halcyon moments,
Attendants and aides thronged around him for his call;
Now, here you can see the knight holding the pain of lonesomeness,
He dreamt of his family love and ran to the verge of life;
But a cloud of obscurity always hung betwixt him and his dream,
You don’t know how he led the moments of his life;
Now he’s a lonesome infant turned towards Nature’s womb.
He breathes; how he breathed and nurtured his children,
I long for his smile; he had no smiles in his life,
I know his inward eye hangs upon Heaven’s Glory.
I see a gardener----looking like,
Planting apple trees with sheltering branches,
The gardener must be a messenger of God,
He prunes the lawn installs shady boughs.
He longs for lullaby; he longs for his dead mother,
There’s none around him, his own possessions;
Tears from his heart flow down his cheeks,
Fate would say: “lonesomeness is terrible than death.”
Countless stars throng about the lovely Moon,
Thousands of flowers beautify the garden;
But here’s seen the knight with his sword
Enfolded by the air of aloneness.
Tired of his living, he now takes rest,
But his rest now seeks solace and comfort.
Crossing the borderlands I let my inward eye travel unto him,
He tries to rise and seeks the third support, but in vain.
I curse myself for my absence beside him as his foster father.
Treat him with thy loving presence,
And my tears shall be the price to his love for me.
Here I leave the court of lonesomeness
With the lesson of loneliness for every one on earth in the last stage
------- Author's Notes -------
(written in the form of Dramatic Monologue; dedicated to my Dad)
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