(28 June 1491 – 28 January 1547 / Greenwich, England)

Someone Must Cry For Human

I am returning from pyre
After burning my father.
-
It's raining now.
How could the sky know my father is no more
And his pyre's ash is still inflamed with sorrow? -
Cloud covers my heart too.
It's raining there
In waves.
-
I have grown up so much in few hours
Since my father breathed his last.
Even with my blurry vision
I could see the end.
End of all ends.
End of human's all journeys,
All aspirations,
All prides,
All despairs,
All loves,
All hatreds.
-
I could see it clear,
Concise,
And crisp.
-
Unlike me,
My father was a humble man.
He had a humble heart,
Humble dream,
Humble house,
And a humble wife.
-
But I am proud,
Dreaming,
Inflammatory,
Unforgiving,
Unkind,
Whimsical.
-
Through my blurry vision
I could see my father's eyes
As he breathed his last.
They were empty
Pale
Shadowed.
-
Was he despairing about me?
Was he lamenting about fragility and futility of life?
A life so futile
Your son could not reach you
When you needed him most.
A life so fragile
You aspire to own everything of this universe
Yet you find in the end
Nothing is yours.
-
Those lovable kids whom you held tenderly
And kissed dearly
Are not yours.
That beautiful wife
Whom you told all secrets of your heart
Is not yours.
Because in the end
You travel all alone
To land
That so unknown and unaccompanied.
-
The cloud is still weeping.
It must.
Human does not cry for human anymore.
There must be someone
Who must cry for human.


© Arun Maji

by Arun Maji

Comments (1)

Sounds somewhat like a blessing for being young.