A thousand full moon you have seen though,
Father, you are still that naughty child.

Just now, I saw you toddling in the veranda
But you disappeared, and come back
Bleeding from the Knee or ankle.

Does the ghost of that old tractor
We sold as scrap possesses you? I doubt
When through the glass I see you
Lying connected with tubes, wires and needles.

Once your estate had no boundary
Nobody could stop you from anything
And you didn’t mind falls.
For obstinacy, you are still that landlord!

Father, you have become a yogi!
For you days and nights are alike
Rope is the serpent and serpent the rope.

Like a tree its roots from the eroding soil
You rip up your ears and eyes from the air
And go for a walk in life’s thorny forest
As you used to in our coconut grove.
I remember the morning glow on your face then
Now, it’s pain.

Father, as you without fail fail to recognise me
I understand
Memory is just a companion in prosperity,
Forgetfulness is the faithful comrade the whole time.
Revelations need no language, you lisp
See how things change overnight
Like you becoming my child