Papa Is Transcendent
That tranquil hill and the rippling river
Serene at both sides of the road
We hand in hand walking faster
To that temple to worship its Lord
Sitting for a while on the sliding steps
Down to the river from inside the temple
Then prostrating before the Lord with our prayers
Next going round the sanctorum nine times ample
Coming out and again prostrating
Before the flag-mast in acceptance of His Blessings
Coming back home to sit next to you
Enjoying the supper mom served us
And before bed, still clinging to you
To listen to you on stars and stories
Under the open sky at night were in repeats.
When cold morn dawned one day in shivers
Papa, you became still to give me tears.
You were dead and transcendent.
Memories are haunting me. Please come back, papa.
poem by Indira Renganathan
Added by Poetry Lover
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