An old man remembers

An old man remembers. I remember writing this poem when I was in the 11th grade for my English class. It wasn't like an assignment or anything like that. The thing I remember most from 11th grade is English class on Mondays. 😁

Every Monday we would have a free class, where we could present our poems, writings or anything else. Our Teacher that year was a really fun loving man who had a great passion for creative writing. So I remember being very inspired by that passion and writing a lot of essays and poems that year. This tradition of our class started when I gave our teach a poem inspired by the recent lesson we had. I'd expected him to just have a look and maybe give me some critique on it but the next day he had me read it out loud in front of the class.😮

And thus began our Monday creative gathering tradition/ session.

This poem is also one that I wrote for one of those Mondays.

An Old Man Remembers

An old man remembers when man and god walked together

But he forgets his legacy his own name.

He remembers the glory days of gods; the stories and the hymns

So he asks from the lord, all he desires, but in vain

For the lord sees everything and answers it all

Through symbols in nature and visions of mind

But alas His children ask but never listen

Solutions to their questions they do not find.

An old man remembers what sacrifices make god happy

But forgets the happiness of his own child

Bounded by the spell of caste and creed

The disapproval he can’t hide

God created everyone the same

Everyone created different gods

Differentiation was thus justified

At man’s shrine of lies we worship like dogs.

An old man remembers the description of a god never seen

Their plans and aspirations he dreamed

In the name of “God” he ordered a thousand deeds

Now the old man had every diamond that gleamed

And so he spun his web of lies

Saying everything that desired to be herd

Modeling all to follow his ways

Deceitful stories he spurred.

An old man remembers the stories of delivered judgment

Like a hammer striking the iron red hot

God is bidding his time, awaiting a cleanse;

when the deceitful man is taught a lesson and left to rot.

In his final moments he’ll realize what he has done

The consequences his child is left to face

The old man will remember god as he truly is

An unsolvable mystery: a never ending maze.

-Manishi Shrestha