3.INTERPRETING MIRACLES
he never said he would walk on water
neither did he attempt it in the neighbourhood lake
he never brought pastries from thin air,
nor did he vanquish snakes
slithering through our hallways ..
and it never rained
when he played the flute..
but
the day he died,
there was a strange fragrance
in the house of our dirty streets..
people who used his believing heart
to run their errands
and scoundrels who trampled over the flowers
of his incredible naivety
lost their sleep in their cosy beds..
children thronged his corpse,
still laughing over the bland dragon flies
and vividly colored bananas
he gave them everyday..
the rain that started after
the funeral
went on for three days and three nights..
just before the pall bearers came
and the hearse was almost ready,
a leaf from our porch tree
slowly descended to the ground..
when the little boy picked it up
with curious hands,
somehow , we remembered his grandfather's
guileless smile..
that was when we saw him
arise from the corpse ,
and walk past the mourners,
offering his shoulder
yet again ,
to the pall bearers...
laughing aloud
to himself,
as he narrates to them
another of his meaningless
and empty jokes..
