Cadaver Sale

The vineyard for the elder son.
(Echoed a voice loud and clear,
In heated outburst.)

I remember the times
When we walked hand in hand
Across the stretch of land,
Tending to the grape vines new
Together we plucked the finest fruit,
And today, I find you walk alone
Stealthily gathering the grapes.

The factory for the second born.
(Countered the new voice,
In sheer anger.)

The endless hours of toil and sweat
To start from the scratch. Building
A realm of riches for the dear ones,
A lifetime wasted away.
Today, I find the doorman block my way,
And I find the smile in your eyes,
dancing in cruel naked joy.

The home of eons for the youngest.
(The softest voice of the lot, I did hear,
And then the clutter of banging wood.)

The little nest I loving made,
Had always sprinkled a magic of love
Thriving on which you gained wings.
Today as I walk past the empty house,
I find no traces of the home I built.
The hallways where you learned to walk
Leaves no footprint in your soul.

As I hear the arguments
From across the glass walls
Segregating the special hospital unit,
I close my eyes,
Hoping it'd never open again.

For,
Which father would want to know,
Which son of his argued the best,
To sell his father's corpse,
As a cadaver, nameless?

The arguments just never would cease,
Or would it?