Present, but not there
They said that day,
The Moon is 30 percent larger than normal.
A phenomena which will only come once a century
Hopeful that it may lead to something more beautiful
than my usual morose days.
You see, I missed him.
My Father, or so they say.
Those men also called him Sergeant, with an air of respect
I did not understand;
He wasn’t present when the world heard me first cry.
He wasn’t present when my brother taught me how to cycle.
He wasn’t present when I had my first breakup with my best friend,
or my lover.
He wasn’t present when I threw my graduation cap in the air.
But they said he was my Father, and I called him that without believing it.
However, Hope is strong, so strong
and that day was indeed special
because my father was present
as he looked up at the big moon that day from the border side,
I saw the reflection of his pain-stricken eyes
and for a moment, our eyes interlocked.
And that night,
I realized why they called him my Father:
our eyes had the same color.
Present, but not there is an ode not to the soldiers and men/women fighting in war, but to their mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, lovers, and children. Because, the world needs to know how they feel too.
This beautiful painting was made by Charvi Kundal.
I am open to like-minded people collaborating with me. Contact me here.