Syntax

By: Satish Verma

SYNTAX

I used to sit beside him
when he was dying inch by inch.
How earnestly I wanted to siphon off
my saved years, to his crackling bones.

Silently, without a word, yawning, then
looking into vacant space
soundlessly, we talked about the shadeless life.

He wanted me to release him.
I watched helplessly, his unmeasurable stance.
My father's proud, erect past, glistened with alacrity.

How much my son will know my heartache?
my ruined shape? An ordinary man climbing
the ladder slowly. I walked straight
and walked drinking water only.

Go, my father go, rest in peace.
Looking down the lane, in time and distance
I will correct the syntax of life
and icy affairs.

SATISH VERMA

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