We Should Weep In Turn Poem by Rajendran Muthiah

My only daughter brought forth
a silent babe dead,
from her abortive, quaking womb,
at an early month of seven.
I was wet with sweat and fainted;
but got up soon to see my daughter.
Forgetting the vacant chairs,
saying prayers to all the gods,
I was walking here and there
till the nurses brought her out safe.

Our trust on a specialist
with scans from all the private centres,
failed to help me see the smiles
and hear the mumblings of my grandbabe.
My dreams to have it on my lap
and watch the dance of computer babes
ended with enormous grief.

Early wedding in her teens
has led me to this ordeal,
that my poor father-in-law
would have felt some years back,
walking on the portals of the hospital,
when my wife was crying from morn to late noon
before delivering my first son,
on a Sabbath day which keeps the doctors away.
I was then roaming somewhere,
Being careless with ease in mind.
God makes us all to cry in turns.
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