Let That Story Be Untold

Got out of bed one day, feeling completely anew.

Saw birds around me, perching on flowers laden with dew.

I just could not, not smile at that super godly sight.

My ecstasy reached unimaginable heights

Surrounded with all this, I almost forgot to remember.

Where did I come from, how did I get there?

Thinking about it, I knew the story was scary and cold.

It occurred to me I was dead, but let that story be untold.

I called for my mother, I called for my friends.

My feet started to shake and then followed my trembling hands.

Super godly became ungodly in no time.

Birds started making noise, and the lights ceased to shine.

Thoughtless and helpless was what I had become.

Hands and feet were already shaking, and now I became numb.

My eyes began to wander, I saw “Heaven” written in bold.

I knew I had died but let that story be untold.

There wasn’t a sign of life, as far as my eyes led.

How could there be life, people are here when they are dead.

“You’re in heaven son. Isn’t that what you always wanted?” A voice startled me.

“Why am I dead, God? What was my sin? How bad did I be?”

“You’re not here coz you were bad. People come here coz they were good.

You always prayed to be here. I was just listening to you, isn’t that what I should?”

I was about to pass out but somehow I did hold.

I knew I had died but let that story be untold.

“There were a million other prayers. Why didn’t you fulfill them?

Couldn’t you have just made me rich or given me a girl who was a 10?”

“I don’t give you what you want; I give you what you need.

I can quench your necessity but never your greed.”

“How’s death a necessity of a 15 year old kid?

Where was I bad? What was the wrong I did?”

“Kid! I understand you’re sad but now listen what you are told.”

I knew I was dead, but let that story be untold.

“Life was what you had but you still longed for heaven.

You fantasized of dying since you were seven.

Dying is overrated. Heaven just looks good in fairy tales.

It’s just one life you got. Don’t you ever bail.

You needed to die because you needed to know.

Unless a man accepts his life, he cannot grow.

Death is nothing son; It’s just absence of life.

You can die when your heart stops or you can die while you’re alive.

There are people who want to live but alas! They don’t have time.

So I gave them time from your dead life. I hope that it’s fine.”

I had always thought God only gives death and makes people die.

But listening to Him talk about life made me cry.

“I don’t deserve my time. I don’t deserve my breaths.

I didn’t have a good life. I hope I have a good death.”

As I closed my eyes to surrender I noticed the image of God getting askew.

I woke up and found no birds perching on flowers laden with dew.

There was this feeling in me and this chill in my spine.

But I never remember smiling so wide and feeling so fine.

It’s an imperfect life, but it is life after all.

I got out of my bed, imperfect and proud, standing up tall.

All you have to do is live before you die or get old.

I knew I was dead, but let that story be untold.

 

You're Late Son.

They say having a father is overrated. All fathers do is embarrass you.

Between not having one and having an embarrassing one, I might as well get embarrassed too.

All fathers talk about are your dismal grades and proliferated expenses, they say.

Fathers are hypocrites; themselves don’t adhere to the rules they ask you to obey.

At the age we’re in, none of us needs a father, they believe.

Having had enough empathy from my drunken friends, I decide to leave.

They holler as I go, “You’re lucky to not have a father around. Wish we were as lucky too.”

I turn to them to aver, “Never say that again. Trust me; you don’t want it to be true.”

I never had myself a greedy-for-grade-miser-for-money-father around.

It sucks to not even know how a hypocrite father sounds.

I take a walk back home, just sober enough to walk straight.

I try not to make a sound as I enter. Mom would be asleep; it’s late.

“You’re late son.” I rue the fact that I wake up my mother; it was the last thing I had hoped.

But the voice was masculine. I see a man sitting in the living room, wearing my father’s robe.

I near the gap between the two of us. I get a peek at his face and I can’t believe my eyes.

“How…What….How…?” is all I could manage. While he just smiles and says, “Surprise! Surprise!”

“They mixed something in my drink.” To this he says, “Since when do you come home drunk?”

He sees mortification in my eyes, and thus he smiles and says, “Come. Let’s have a chat, son.”

“Business first. I hear your grades are dismal and expenses proliferated.”I look at him and he winks.

But he waits for a reply. Still mortified, I say, “I don’t know. I have to take care of other things.”

“I know you are livid, son. But me leaving was the best thing that ever happened to you.

At least you hate your father for not being around; not for being around, like your stupid friends do.

Look at you, you little girl! When I was your age, I was already taking care of the house.

I want you to man up and do the same. And FYI, that’s how a hypocrite father sounds.

You don’t need me for happiness. Just get out of bed daily and remind yourself to smile.

Eventually, you would not have to make an effort. Smiling will become your habit after a while.

The powerful play does go on and you have to contribute a verse.

Let your verse not be “I miss my father.” For both of us it would be a curse.”

 “When… When can I see you again, dad?” Interrupting his speech, I say, with a tear in my eye.

“If getting drunk and crying brings you back to me, for the rest of my life I will only drink and cry.”      

“Don’t act so pathetic, son. I have been proud of you so far.

You don’t want your old man to leave with a scar.

If you try to find me at the bottom of a bottle, you never will.

The age you’re in, you actually don’t need a father. It’s true, however bad it makes you feel.

Having said that, promise me that you will be a great father, way better than I ever was.

Don’t expect too much from your son. If he loves you, just thank your stars.

I will take your leave now since I think I have said enough to make you feel better.

Now be careful with that door. Try not to wake up your mom as you enter.”

Before I could say anything, I found myself standing outside the house.

I had a smile on my face and I entered as quietly as possible, almost like a mouse.

“You’re late son.” I rue the fact that I wake up my mother; it was the last thing I had hoped.

I just go up and hug her. Seeing his son happy, I think the smell of booze, she ignores.