December 1, 2016
My Brother’s Garden
- Suman sitting
- in his chair
- in his garden,
- sharing his thoughts
- with me. I long
- to write them down,
- but no, Suman says.
- These are the words
- written in the sand
- to be washed away
- when the tide
- comes in, and she
- scoops them up
- in her arms
- and carries them
- back to the
- mother sea.
- Ideas I grasp
- that are
- new to me,
- planted in my mind,
- and budding
- with colors
- of love and God.
- Pondering over
- flowering thoughts
- of wisdom.
- Discussing religion,
- dear Hiya’s accident,
- and ancient customs.
- I am learning Hindi!
- He is expanding
- his English!
- This is our time,
- our special moment,
- in Suman’s garden.
- Laughter consumes
- the air we breathe.
- I am content.
- The day does not
- contain enough hours.
- Idle ways
- are unknown to me.
- A wish bursts forth
- like a blossom
- from my heart.
- Suman has watered it
- with his good nature.
- I wish for Suman’s garden
- to flourish endlessly,
- for Suman
- to sit in his chair,
- and me in mine,
- and for this day
- to never end.
- But Suman
- gets up, and
- as he leaves,
- he looks my way,
- and says,
- “The show
- must go on,”
- and he walks
- quietly away.
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