Dying Father

It's been eighty years

And a million miles

From the small farm

Where I was born

I enrolled in World War II

I traveled to foreign lands

I did my duty

To provide for the family

I gave my sweat and blood

As a lonely indentured slave

Far from my homeland

In a holy, loveless desert

I saved a lot of money

I had nine children

But something went wrong

Their treatments cost too much

I read a hundred books

On the personalities of sages

I had a few death calls

But I didn't mend my ways

I performed the worship rituals

I thought I was a success

Now I'm losing breath

But still shielding against the cries

To correct the wrongs

A few days before I die

Fazeel Azeez Chauhan

4-8-99