That Indian Sweet Almond Tree
It stood magnificently in front of our Churchyard,
Like the sacred fig tree before any temple-yard;
My going to church, as a boy, had no other reason,
Than picking all bird-dropped fruits, as a mission;
Collecting as many as possible hastily,
Pushing them into my knickers-pocket quietly;
Thinking of them all through the Holy Mass,
Waiting for the priest to say the final grace;
Hurrying to a corner where no humans see,
Place, as lonely as the very loneliness could be;
Savouring the sour-sweet taste spread over it,
Then breaking it with stones to get the nuts in it;
Quantity of it equaled as little as a butter drip,
Or as much as ten mustard seeds put as a strip;
Relishing it as though nectar of ancient sages,
Coming down to mine tongue from all the ages;
In youth tastes changed and matters mattered,
And this almond became very old fashioned;
Burgers, Pizzas, hotdogs and all tasted well,
Though, consuming them, I often was unwell;
I saw boys and girls picking almonds as I did,
And hurrying to corners and I understood;
The ‘grown-up’ in me prohibited me from doing so,
It’s hence I hid my child within, as a rainbow;
Abroad, I almost forgot the Indian almond tree,
As within me, I was bored and never really free;
I had my worries of marriage and children,
Who’d care for a tree with no monetary gain?
It’s when I went to my home town casually,
It’s under that tree I found my future lily;
We married and got children who grew,
Both with tastes so modern and new;
Yet, it’s when once we visited the churchyard,
My younger lingered over that fruit so thrilled;
We offered him sweet almonds from stores,
And supermarkets that made him to uproar;
He collected for long as much as he could,
And each little one he collected for him he hid;
He too, later, had his dreams and worries,
Sophistications seismically so seduce, seize;
Church now demolished and grounds cleared,
For newer one to construct all well renewed;
I found this almond tree got fully uprooted,
And thrown into a corner like an old harp muted;
I cried and cried till I could cover the tears,
As though I’d hidden my feelings for many years…
30 July 2021
Finding Your Muse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
