I had said Go away.
I had slammed the door.
In the fray
Old wounds had pulsed sore.

He had done the best he could
From what he had learnt.
But his worries had seemed rude.
Of my anger he bore the brunt.

Sitting then – cold chair,
Cold air and warm tears.
Were not my demands fair?
Were not my expectations mere?

He went away without a word.
Never knew he had cried alone too.
My happiness he had only yearned.
I cared not to give him his due.

Years of silence.
No hope of reconciling.
Born of the same obdurate defiance,
Phones lifted but never finished dialing.

Ominous black lettered
Post arrived I was told.
He would be cremated.
My blood ran cold.

In my room, that night, he had died a little
He died some more on the road home.
The silence had made his heart brittle.
Now it had freed his soul to roam.

I learn, sitting now, cold chair,
Cold air and warm tears.
Opportunities to right the wrongs are not rare.
We stop ourselves on unfound fears.

I screamed, I shouted –
Silence should have killed me, rather.
My regret, my remorse –
Silence had killed my father.

Image found by Google search. No (c) claimed

Continuing the ‘Father‘ theme…

‘Remorse’ holds a special place in my heart. I had a difficult relationship with my father, growing up. We are too similar; we love too fiercely. I left India years ago and I was suddenly required to be an adult. It was something I had been fighting for all my life but I was surprised to find myself intimidated by it all. I missed my father. I recollected our angry words and realised how much it will ache if we end up living our entire lives without him ever knowing how much I love him. Thus, ‘Remorse’ was born.

Then, I Skyped. And I haven’t stopped since.


2 thoughts on “Remorse”

  1. I like your Remorse from my heart my Dear. Yaa we love too fiercely. We are humans bundled with love and affection. Even though we become old you are still my little sweet kid playing with words as always……Ahhh.. …..Ahhh.. I love it….


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