The Statue In The Park

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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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