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Prometheus: A son away from his father shares what's in his heart!
This is a poem that I wrote for my father while I was locked away in my apartment in Gurugram! I wrote this on his birthday eve. It was quite ironical that I did not remember at all that it was his birthday the next day!
This is a user generated content for MyStory, a YourStory initiative to enable its community to contribute and have their voices heard. The views and writings here reflect that of the author and not of YourStory.
Prometheus
The sun is yet behind on its trail
The winter winds gusty and wild, from the north they hail
The morning dew seeking refuge on fronds
Jack Frost had busy nightfall.
Divine is the Nature’s beauty they say, but not for all
Young blooms buried beneath the white shroud rest to eternity
And patches of green favored by Boreas
Seek haven from Helios, for another winter night is yet to fall!
A shadow walks through the woods
Age has him and wretched he looks
His knees tremulous his fingers stern
A swift pace and to a white patch, he turns.
He stills on a white holm and drops knees to the ground
Parts snow from a hardwood jamb and digs snow like a hound
A smile dawns through the wrinkles of the old parker
Verdure had survived the chill in his crafted shelter.
Nights in number have yet to pass
The young stem will cast broad
The parker will not rest until it grows
Fruit of the seed he will never pluck, with his own hands which he sow.
I am young and careless and free
I wish to travel beyond the seas
While my curator has stirred through sleep
Worries through days and prays for my weal.
As a craftsman crafts his ship
Shapes its hull and burnish its bowsprit
When sails set free and keel slides
Vessel parts way from its prime.
And as the thunder across the horizon roars
Craftsman prays heaven for his ship to kiss atoll
The mast creeks and freely waves the rudder
But the ship sails on with gratitude to its creator.
While I am away living to learn
To reverse your sacrifices I always yearn
No more a boy they say, you’re a man
I know it’s not true for I have no kin to carry my name.
Strange is the cycle of life indeed
The fruit devours the flower on which it breeds
A day will come when you will tread in heaven
And I will long for you just as you long for your son.
Yet strange are the customs of men
While I bow my head to the one who gave me his name
All find sanctuary in an infinity of gods
Is it too hard to see the divine rests in our own adobes?
Worry not Prometheus
Your kin to come will pay you heed
They will remember you as I pray thee.
While you walk among the stars close to the Chiron
My parker, my craftsman, my father!
Your legacy will go on.
-Vijeta Sharma