The difference, between “my father”,
And “our father”, is that, one gave me life,
In the form of a tiny, swimming tadpole,
And stood as my canopy,
On my darkest night; while the other,
Gave me heavenly incandescence,
To evaporate my tears, and to mirror my face
With the saffron sun.
While I thank my father, on his day,
Knowing, that my mother’s breasts once forgotten,
I could only stand under your canopy, your arms open,
So unlike prayer, and those interfacing palms.
How in a world of, decoys and serendipity,
Judases and Midases, you showed me, the difference
Between faith and fate.
One is the reverence, of a heavenly occupant,
Who sculpts the Invictus in you,
And the other gives me, Cartesian coordinates,
To my eternal duel, with dyscalculia,
Metamorphosing into my GIS, every time I’m
Inside a labyrinth. Life is just about,
How I fit into my dad’s shoes, those Size 14s,
Which I wear with three thick socks.
How I could never measure up to my dad,
The lighthouse with a hundred step
Spiral staircase, a thick window
On top, from where a light shone far,
And a stentorian voice, that I could
Hear, from a distance, like the siren,
Of a lone fog horn.