My Father's Death Poem by Raghurama Raju

My father's body
was placed there,
cool and stiff
facing the door!
Some people looked at me
And whispered 'His third son! '
They were disappointed
They anticipated an outburst!
I couldn't cry!
I looked at my father'still body
Dark complexion, blunt nose and deep voice -
The features that shaped my person!
I couldn't cry
Those long, hairy hands
bathed me in summer afternoons!
Those long and slender fingers
trained me in learning alphabets
Those stubs on his gaunt face
tickled my clildish cheeks!
Still I failed to cry!
But I was supposed to cry!
My mother noticed and called me to her side
'Your father loved the clothes
you sent for the festival!
Whenever he wore them, he smoothed their surface
and felt your presence! '
Before she finished her words
I was crying
Like a little boy
for a snatched toy!