INDIA RIVER’S END

Twice the age that my father was then

Sure, I remember when.

Smallpox took him.  Buried there

So near that river’s end!

.

.

Seemed like the end to me as a boy,

Sluggish, shallow, wide!

Near the bulrushes, the crocodiles

Toward the far side!

.

.

I was reaching for a plant out there,

When Father’s oar shot-out!

Lifting my hand from sheer demise,

Then down!  On  crocodile’s snout!

.

.

Sternly once more, “Hands in the boat!”

“We will not tell mother!  agreed?”

All agreed, nodding heads sagely.

Has all the worries she needs!

.

.

Bit later, another crocodile

Under our craft lifted.

Blast from the shotgun did its turn,

Sped away.  Boat evicted!

.

.

“I believe we should return now, shore

A bit safer for all!”

“We will not tell mother…”  All know she prayed!

It was her favorite call!

.

.

Her call to prayer, best calming device!

Of course, she worried still!

But in God’s will, the center-most,

“Dear God!  As You will!”

.

.

Then when God took him home, age forty-three,

Devastated.  Call for comfort!

Buried there by his favorite river,

Of course, all were distraught!

.

.

For years he was missed and mourned!

Comfort slow!  Pillows wet!

Shedding tears and throughout the days

Memories will not let!

.

.

Forgetfulness despite promised Heaven,

Happy there!  We are told.

Course, one day, Heaven we will see!

Loved ones glad in the fold!

.

.

Decidedly delightful!

Heaven awaits!

the Sam 12.07.11

One thought on “INDIA RIVER’S END

  1. Abdulkarim says:

    Today, it occurred to me that poems (and stories), like everything else in our lives, are part of the law of Cause & Effect. The best way to write, for me, is to simply make causes: reading & researching curiously, taking note of things that happen each day, and just living. The poems, then, are the effects of those causes.

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