(I)
You were my first
Teacher, the only one...
You’d read from the
Scriptures strange words
In a guttural, glottal voice
And, I, like a Calendar
Parrot-fashioned it all
Never daring to ask for
Meanings
You’d kneel before
Dressed idols. And I too
Would prostate my
Half-naked body on cold stone
Shivering like a thread
Suspended in a cruel storm
Yet, I never saw my God
(II)
With your old blinding eyes
You dreamed of young men dying
In wars, no one anymore knew
The reason for being fought
Poisoned by the milk
Of your dry breast
Cradled in a cot of lies
My lullabies were tales of death
(III)
Caged under a painted sky
I slept my dreamless sleep
Under the canopy of stars
That never twinkled
You set fire to the
Sylvan of my wild dreams
‘Never go near the fire’
That was the first Gospel
I was taught
(IV)
It was always your life
Your ‘right’s’
Your ‘wrong’s’
Your unfulfilled dreams
...your epitaph on my grave
