Poetry

My grandfather

My grandfather;
Tall, stern, serious
A bit tabooed to be talked about
And yet all he is
A collection of tales,
Casual remarks in casual conversations,
Distant rare imaginations,
My grandfather;
The old photo framed on the wall,
A voice unheard,
A face too blurred to be a memory,
Hero of his death anniversary,
A sad record of a treatment gone wrong,
The arms that never touched,
The eyes that never blinked,
Too distant to ever be close,
Too absent to ever be remarked,
In my head he lays
Silent
Still
Often unnoticed
A black and white picture
With a necklace of artificial flowers
That has been existing even before I existed
His presence unabashedly unknown to ever be missed
My grandfather;
A caricature of my could be’s
Of my occasional curiosity
Of the vague answers of my questions
Some of which didn’t even qualify to be remembered
My grandfather;
Tall, stern, serious
Shamelessly insignificant, creatively mysterious,
His unheard laughter, his unheard stories
Vastly scattered blanks among the words;
those unidentified glories
My grandfather;
Bits of handmade memories
Smugness of an insolent brain,
Horrors of a guilt ridden heart;
A truth with no sugar coated exaggerations
A known man unknown
My grandfather.

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