My Father and a Ray of Hope

With a huge geometry of bones and ribs my father stands amidst us, like an age-old iron pillar, high durable, tensile and unbrittle he is, the lonesome cantilever. Though I know not, perhaps he could be in immense pain, or suffering from his terrible wounds; but neither I feel nor touch as I fear; may be I his last crutch or be the solve of sandal paste on this body for ever. Though I know nothing, perhaps, for the sake of ‘oil and salt’ world; he’d be even ready to sleep on the bed of thousand arrows and at the same time he hides every sensitive worldly elements within him, as far as a star fish does every time when it comes across a danger. And always, I cannot move over to his world of desires, it’s the same show the same grief day after day. The foot prints of his journey through life are not lost in the sand storms of poverty and in my mind as well. Like the third bank of ever flowing river Like a lonely Oar of way lost solitary boat Like a distant star in the dark sky Like a defiant soldier in battlefield My father- with dry tears and black blood in his toil and lethal hands continues his combat fight against treacherous time and treadle fate. And with a twingle of hope against hope, I feel every odds of life and promise to myself a thousand times ‘I can be a nearby dawn to remove the everlasting dark night’, as my thoughts don’t go with the distanced sun.