Welcome, son. Welcome here today.
From the deepest seat of our hearts, so we say.
We waited for nine months.
Here you're now to save us from wrath.
But you told us Godspeed
To leave us in killing and dire need.
The months were dark with doubt,
Yet hope was still alive in us without flout.
The stars didn't shine bright;
At the horizon, the moon never came out right.
I sensed trouble, but not death
As we sat around the hearth.
Goodnight son, I know the pain.
The aspirin in your belly won't make us forget and feign.
Dying these days doesn't mean much,
So I won't sue those men and women to give a rough touch
To soil and oil their white shirts and blouses.
You gave it up on arrival; we tasted bruises.
And I wept without tears;
Mama went comatose days
Before she woke up
In pain so sharp!
Mankudivi loves you.
You know him right, if not, who?
He came first and refused to go back.
It was luck!
Greet grandad; we all extend our greetings
And great, warm tidings.
Author of Madman and the Drunkards