This poem is translated by Mdm. Liu May Ling, Toronto. Thanks.
RIDING ON THE CLOUDS
You ride on the clouds,
when we visit you.
In your sleep, you bade farewell;
we hold on to your hands,
trying to reach you, not letting go,
feeling your warm and pulses,
many childhood stories still untold.
You hear us talking,
your dear ones are unprepared,
this sudden journey, with all the
cold modern connections.
You hear the silent prayers,
gate always open for the faithful,
no hurry, delay your departure, until
we each fulfill the obligation
and sing our psalm or poetry.
NB Last night received SMS that he has passed away. His sibling was curious to know how the bond between us was so strong despite different faith, a bond stronger that blood. I suppose among my generation, we are more easy going and see lives differently. It is mutual trust and friendship since school days, even though we may not meet often enough. At our age, with diminishing friends, we treasure one another’s presence.