To My Father – II

To My Father – II

Will I write you a poem, now that you're gone?
Will I write you a poem, although it's too late?
Will I write for my father, who is ashes today?
Will I write for my father, who is taken by fate?

I will write you a poem, although you are gone,
I will write you a poem, for it's never too late.
I will write for my father, for the man that he was,
I will write for my father, for the man and his cause...

I will write for my father, who had traveled his land,
I will write for my father, for the skill in his hand,
I will write for my father, who had only one eye,
I will write for my father, for the light in that eye...

You are gone, oh my father, and yet you are here...
You are dead, oh my father, and my mother so dear...
You are gone, oh my parents, and you'll never return...
You are dead, oh my parents, and I saw you both burn...

I will go, oh my father, in my time, I will go.
I will go, oh my mother, and you never will know.
But I live, oh my father, and I'll live for awhile,
And I'll think of my parents and I'll weep and I'll smile.

I will think of my sister, who has gone on her way,
I will think of my sister, as I wake, every day.
I will think of my father, as I'm walking to work,
I will think of my mother, whenever I shirk...

You are gone, oh my parents, my sister and more...
You have walked through that exit, that portal, that door...
I will call you by name, but you never will know.
I will call you in silence, till I pass through that door...

Your were famous, my father, and your fame may persist,
But the labors you offered, I hardly can list.
You were famous, my father, if for only a while,
But you were also my father, who had made a boy smile...

You are gone, oh my mother, who was precious to all,
And the horrors you suffered, we still can recall...
You are gone, oh my mother, and we saw you depart.
You are gone, oh my mother, with the love in your heart...

You are gone, oh my sister, and your nurse, whom you loved,
You are gone, oh my sister, and so many beloved...
For we come and we go and we meet and we part,
And we each try to do, what we're asked by our hearts...

I will write you a poem, oh my father, I said,
But I wrote only this, that I'm writing, instead.
Be at peace, oh my parents, my sister and all...
Like the waves in the ocean, we rise and we fall...

Like the waves in the ocean, we are one and the same.
And yet we have quarrels, and we try to put blame...
You rose from the ocean, the ones that I loved...
You rest in that ocean, and you still are beloved.

I have written a poem that you never will see...
I have written a poem, and I'll let it now be...
What use is a poem, now that you're dead?
I write it for others, who are living, instead...

2013 June 24th, Mon.
Brooklyn
 
dedicated to the memory of:

Sunil Janah,
1918, April 17th – 2012, June 21st

Sobha Janah (born Sobha Dutt),
1929, April 18th – 2012, May 18th,

Monua Janah,
1959, August 16th – 2004 January 18th

and all the others, beloved, now departed...