Remembrance follows forgetting
what follows the river down its course is the truth of all the time that it flowed through: through my childhood mornings spent on the sandy banks shimmering in the early rays of the hungry summer sun still waiting by the horizon for us to offer our prayers, my grandfather offers his obeisance like his forefathers have done for ages as I dip my self in the water’s bosom to wash away the sins of stepping on a bug I didn’t see and of competing with a squirrel for the first bite of ripe mango this year
but time will flow by
sins accumulate with a revengeful ferocity and there is no river left this summer to wash me off my deeds and no memory as powerful as my late grandfather’s prayers lost in the din of the millennium. What will happen? What will.
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Note: This poem has been published in The Unprecedented Review on June 14, 2016.
what follows the river down its course is the truth of all the time that it flowed through: through my childhood mornings spent on the sandy banks shimmering in the early rays of the hungry summer sun still waiting by the horizon for us to offer our prayers, my grandfather offers his obeisance like his forefathers have done for ages as I dip my self in the water’s bosom to wash away the sins of stepping on a bug I didn’t see and of competing with a squirrel for the first bite of ripe mango this year
but time will flow by
sins accumulate with a revengeful ferocity and there is no river left this summer to wash me off my deeds and no memory as powerful as my late grandfather’s prayers lost in the din of the millennium. What will happen? What will.
---
Note: This poem has been published in The Unprecedented Review on June 14, 2016.
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