Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

Fathers Hanging.


I am 14. A boy just in my teens.
The death of my father,
Was brought to me by the newspaper.
Head lines screamed.
As if more than my nights endless deep.
The media was banging away,
My soul was fading away.
I was trying to see reason,
All I heard is treason,
I was wanting to be with solitude,
In my mothers mourning and her altitude,
All I got is bytes, of sounds, bites of life.
My father is dead and gone, but you also killed me along.

Submitted: Monday, February 11, 2013
Edited: Monday, February 11, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

I wonder how would the child of Afzal Guru feel at all the senseless media cacophony.

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