sleep well, grandfather.

we were all there
at St Mary's yesterday
to remember you
its been seven years
of living without you.

at st mary's i can
never pray.
instead i stand and stare
at the domed ceiling
and see if the painted stars are still intact

the sunlight through the stained glass
the gold engraved scupltures at the altar
Fresco of heaven on the right
towering above the choir
Gabriel with the flaming sword , cherubs at his feet

black bulls
satan and his darkness
contours of sin
fire and the twelve winged lucifer
all spliced together on my left

i muse over Seraphs
hierarchies of angels
the softness of the cloulds on the wall
strain to trace the "M" on the last supper
run my fingers over the lifelike grapes on vines

and at your grave we lighted small candles
lay flowers from our garden on your tombstone.
i wonder if you made it to heaven past Gabriel?
are you an angel in white dhoti?
do you teach history and author grammar texts still?

a few old students ,2 classmates from MCC
your brother and his family
your son and daughter,all your grandchildren
your immediate nieghbours.
a measly crowd.

we stood awhile head bowed .
as we left your side,all of us crying.
even your son in law.
its been only seven years
another seventy and yet we will feel your loss.

heavens may exist only on frescos
painted inside church walls.
its a long reach anyway, this heaven.
Appachan, for now its enough that we are all here today.
sleep well.