The Statue In The Park
Now that it is proved you were mortal
Having died, though some desire you to live on
Cast your image in bronze
Place on your head a cap of gold
Even in death to protect from rain and cold
In a park of the city where children play
For them to see you everyday
And imbibe your practice of hate.
Will you stand alone or sit on a horse?
Depends on the sculptor’s thought
Whichever way that may happen to be
You will certainly be in glorious company
Looking stern or a hand raised
Depicted as the tiger you were hailed.
But years from now when more sense
would’ve prevailed in our minds
Having been rid of your nonsense
You’d lie forgotten in the corner
of the very same park. The pedestal
used by children as wickets or mark
graffiti would have spoilt your face
Reflecting your deeds: violent and dark.
An innocent child to her mother asked
Unable to remember, the mother
requested others if they could
tell the child why the decrepit statue still stood
Spoiling the beauty of the iconic park?
None could answer except an old man
Who spoke in an ashamedly hesitating way
That you remain to remind the people
Of the horrible times that had prevailed
When he and others like him had revered the devil
And intentionally banished god from heaven.
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