After he is gone...

From your mind’s eye you look
after he is gone…

You see the smile diminished with years
sadness set in without tears
loneliness imprinted on his face,
as he walks through the empty rooms in a daze.

From your mind’s eye you look
after he is gone…

You observe a lone meal at the long table
self-prepared at 94, for he was able
with small bowl of green chillie and salt
the spread he set out, but then halt
admiring the yakhni, the rice mound, the haak
looking around the empty chairs for someone to talk

From your mind’s eye you look
after he is gone…

You remember him leaned over his desk
manuscripts sprawled as he looked for the best
correcting and refining, writing in the forgotten script
pausing for sheer chai to take a sip,
conversing on paper with those who parted their ways
moved to lands far, returning to visit after too many days.

From your mind’s eye you look
after he is gone…

You see a happy old man, who’s brought up his brood
a proud father leading his flock to as far as he could
now like headless chicks, the three carry his legacy to lead
holding their newfound heads high, doing their deed
of spreading the word, “He was a great man – our father,
he is with us no more, but is with our mother.”

From your mind’s eye we will continue to see
for the man he was, not what he could have been
for each generation from here on to admire
for each descendent to learn and aspire.