A Dead Investment Poem by Dr. Rani Mathew

He was once a shell to me
within which formless I lay.
It was his form that I had.
the container and the content.

His heart and head he racked
to give me a form of my own
Like a leech I sucked out
the inflowing nutrients of love.

Now I'm out on sturdy legs.
But plagued by the shell shrunken
Supplely I dash ahead
And clumsily he lags behind.

The shell that once shielded me
Is fragile and withered
And is limping in the dark
In pursuit of a safe harbour

Is it viable you think
To play nanny to him, the done
When I am busy tending
the formless that I call my own?

A dead investment. I don't dare
Of my energizers which I reserve
for my doting kid, the nub of my dreams
whom I keep close to my heart

Into the safest port I ushered THE OLD MAN
With due respects and concern
where I could hire the best expertise
in mending withered shells

Vindicating myself with ins and outs
Into the yard of the infirmary I stepped
And there stood my son deliberating
On the feasibility of an advance booking