Staring at the moon
as it is peering through
a cloudy night sky
Clouds slowly passing by
drenched in a soft halo
of the moons love
For a moment
seeming to touch
yet miles apart
Them starry spectators
enjoying a blissful encounter
 of perfect synchronicity
For a moment
You were the Moon
and I was miles away.

My son, to us, you’re so very special
For reasons not just one or two!
But when you announced your arrival first
At an unexpected time and age-

Was it with joy or fear, still not so sure
That I first felt the faint stirrings of life inside
Sure, when you barged in more like a late night guest
You gifted us with a mixed pack

After eight months of anxious wait
When you showed up a little earlier than due
With a clear shriek and a piercing cry
All our fears vanished, all anxiety fled

Like a cute little kitten with eyes shut
You slept peacefully day and night
Refusing to **** your mother’s breast
That again put your mom in severe stress

You never threw any tantrums wild
As all other babies usually do
Pleasantly gentle with a chuckling smile
You were a spring flower, come alive

You readily accepted the cast away stuff;
Broken toys and milk stained bib,
Faded clothes and the little crib,
Used recklessly by your naughty brother

You never gave us any stress or pain
Even in days of adolescent strain
You were ever gentle and ready to mingle
With eyes lit up with a delectable twinkle

You are endowed with a loving heart
When we are glum, you are by our side
Your compassion, care and abiding love
Are truly gifts, God has blessed you with

You know every nook and corner of the house
Where each little thing placed and kept
If something is amiss inside the house
You run with a click and get it by trick or fluke

As you left for studies, miles away
The house looks empty like an abandoned nest
With no more songs in early dawn
Until once you return to give it a tilt

Time will fly and you’ll be grown
An adult, ready to soar into the world
But you are the reason that keeps us young
And give our tired legs an unusual spring

You lit our yesterdays with hopes for tomorrow
And even after your hairline recedes
Even after you become man and Dad
You remain once and ever our *‘Vava’ dear!

Five years ago today you departed this earth
5 years, 5 months, 5 minutes, 5 seconds, they all conjoined instantaneously, so conveniently
I don't  recall the day of the week , the time of the day
Although I memorized  the confines of your face,  your rugged unwavering  hands
Your guttural voice often immigrates within my head
When I soul search, I look for you
The fading  air that I begged you could take  
Fretfulness settled into the restristed room, submerging into wetlands
Incomprehensible grief as we bathed in tears
Prayers were addressed to our ears
Gentle brushes against your skin just to feel your warmth
I thought what is the sound of a heartache?
Because I knew at that moment even sorrow knew  grief
Having no words for my own mother who lost a son
Knowing that there were three brothers and now one is gone
Recognizing how delicate brothers can be, yet unbreakable

I envision you discovering fistfuls of copper
A sacred river that delivers  peace  and there's  berries to pick
With sawdust on your fingertips and a smile upon your face
The fish are  always biting, and you can always hunt deer
Rings of kaleidoscope colors paint the sky, calmly on the shore

A flick of his baton,
And hate fills the room.
Wafting under the doors
Into bystanders,
And passersby,
Ears.

My father was our conductor.

A sweeping gesture,
So well rehearsed...
And love and admiration,
Make the room quiver with sound.

He held his audience in a grip as hard as a scared child's, he'd perfected every move he made.

The stage is set,
The orchestra is ready to play,
Not for the audience,
For the conductor.

He trained us, his family, as a traveling show
All to boost his needy ego.

He raises his hands,
And the pity raises it's volume.
You can taste the salty,
Bitter melody
On your tongue.
You could almost swallow the tune.

If he couldn't use you in some way, he'd leave you,
Whether you were a friend or his blood.
  
A sweet undertone of hate,
So easily made,
And so tempting.
Now a brief solo...
And the admiration blasts full,
And loud,
And bright.

He'd use those who loathed him in his orchestra,
Use them to make his admirers defend him.

The conductor,
And his orchestra.
Like the sun and the planets.
The music revolving around him,
His curled moustache,
And retreating hairline.

He was a puppet master, gaining something from any
Attention thrown his way.
  
Now a solo for the fear,
Clear,
And high.
His hands go down low,
For the base sound of anger.

He was a walking explosion, when he entered the room in our home, it silenced.

Bitterness fills the room,
It's strings
Singing.
And pity again,
Perhaps his favorite instrument.

I hated him for not loving me, and he used my bitterness to hold my sisters closer to him

The conductor,
The abuser,
Conducting all the attention,
Upon himself.
Not any type is unwanted,
All instruments have a place
On his stage.

The only way to escape, was to let him go.

I've dropped my instrument.
Left bitterness on the floor.
The last one I've played,
I've tried my hand at all the others,
But I could never find one
I wanted to keep.
The life of a musician,
Just isn't for me.