It’s All Right. It Will Be Fine.

You’re 9 and you’re sitting on a swing,
Waiting for your life to begin,
When suddenly a noise breaks your thoughts,
You get off the swing, and on the front porch.
You father comes out and steps on the land,
And, you notice the big suitcase in his hand,
You run to him and ask him what’s wrong,
He says wait for me, like they say in a song.
You smile and look straight into his eyes,
And, then, you know he is telling a lie,
Yet, you do not stop, you just let him go,
For he is too fast and you are too slow.

Your own father left you, at his own rule,
And, your mother sent you away to a boarding school.
And, yet you do not utter a cry,
It’s all right. It will be fine.

You’re 21 and you’re standing on a bridge,
The love of your life is there on that cliff,
The bridge is too low, and the cliff is too high,
Yet, you decide to just make that try,
Mustering your strength, you go so fast,
Hoping that this impact would last,
And, at such a great speed, you leave the land,
The girl, as decided, tries to grab your hand,
She tries, but is just too slow,
And, all you say is let it go.

Despite no fault of your own, you fail,
You’ve lost your love, your efforts are vain.
And, yet you do not utter a cry,
It’s all right. It will be fine.

You’re 33 and you’re going in a train,
To meet your mother on that station in pain,
You want to take her with you to that doctor,
For that you resigned from Gamble and Proctor.
You know she just never loved you, yes,
She’d left you when you were small to a boarding test,
But, yet you return, for she is your mother,
You return, for you do not want her to smother.
And, you just hope, that you might just hear,
That she loves you, after all these years,
And, with this hope, you are getting impatient,
But, the train misses her station,
And, when you return, you had just come to part,
For your mother had already taken depart.
She’d gone and with her those words,
Of a poem, the most beautiful verse.

You’ve lost your hope, your pride, your love,
You’ve lost that beautiful white dove.
And, yet, you do not utter a cry,
It’s all right. It will be fine.

You’re 45, and you’re going on the street,
Thinking about your long due treat,
When you spot an old man getting mugged,
And, you rush over there, to correct the bug.
But, the mugger glances at you in anger,
And, as you stop, you kiss the dagger,
Your body, there, falls on the ground,
Your life, as always, was death bound.
And, people, yes, they come at your aid,
But, now, is no use for any parade,
For you are now taking your last breath,
And, no man, no girl, no child could help.
As you die, the old man comes close to you,
He examines your face and your eyes, too.
And, now though it does not matter,
He knows that he is indeed your father.

Your hope is there lying in blood red,
It is there with your body dead.
Yet, there is not a tear in your eye,
It’s all right. It will be fine.

Your body is lying there in the coffin,
And, people around it are there, standing,
Your friends, your father, the love of your life,
And other men with their children and wife.
Narrating a story of a great man,
He never cried, he never ran,
Three of them with tears in their eyes,
Come one by one to utter truth, no lies.
Your aunt, she says you would be missed,
Your mother used to give your picture a kiss,
Everyday, till she died in the end,
Says your aunt in a nervous blend.
Your love, she says she loved you so much,
She could not say it before as such,
And, she regrets it more than ever,
She regrets to have left you forever.
Your father, he says he loved you too,
And, calls himself an eager fool,
For having left you some years back,
For being such a potato sack.

And, now, for first time in years 39,
Things were right and things were fine.
Not there, if anyone, was that poor fellow,
Who had hoped for this day, since days of yellow.

Now, stand up and do not make him wait,
Find that fellow, don’t be late.
Tell him the truth, don’t hold back your words,
Don’t wait to regret, don’t wait to rehearse.
So, stop reading this poem and go there fast,
Tell him what you mean, and make it last.
Let it not just pass into another day,
Let it not pass into the sun’s ray.
Don’t let him say that dreaded line,
It’s all right. It will be fine.

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