Last chance of living and dying

(From my poetry collection 'The Nameless Avenue') 

A bandicoot, a  father and a son

Finally they captured

the bandicoot which dug

innumerable secret passages

under their neat  tidy home.

          The struggle became tiresome

          for both the  party;

          hunters and the hunted;

          it’s not so merrier to hunt

          and too vigilant to escape.

Later, they were shocked;

the father and  the  son

to learn ; it’s not a capture

but a sheer surrender.

          The bandicoot grew weary at last,

          opting for a come out from the vigil,

          fell kicking its hind legs,

          in the labor of dying.

Son went for a stick,

To  quicken the process.

Father forbade telling “let it

relish the last moment of living”

"Isn't it dying?"

"No, trying a last chance of living.."

         The concern was so puzzling.

         Son looked at father's face,

         reading out the silent meaning

         he left it out , understandingly

 Vaiyavan