His passing was sudden
Like the slap when I wouldn’t serve him his food.
There was one last surge of emotion,
Due,
As I applied ghee on his face
So the fire would be kind.
I never knew a father;
But my father,
He knew me,
He said,
He knew I was “like that” since I was two.
And that was enough for him to know of me.
The bullying,
The browbeating,
The beating,
The battery of those slammed doors
Hailing his entry or exit
Out of and in to my life.
But for all that he hated me
I hope karma doesn’t exist,
And he doesn’t enter this world
From another door
That bangs open
Like a bomb blast.
Hearts Still Care 