Wednesday, 16 January 2019

The night you passed away,
I do not recall what the moon was doing, what was the moon saying to me
at that moment when you withdrew your breath
despite the instruments boring holes in your body
to pull you on and on 
against your wish to pull on, like the car whose tyre could not be changed.
You lay serene on your bed, brave, spartan in your courage.
There was no pity, no compassion for the suffering of your body.
You just wanted to bid a farewell to those you loved so well.
It was only a few hours ago, you looked and pointed your gaze 
at the life supporting system above your head,
the monitor ticking away, frantically in broken signals
frantically trying to make me aware that the hour was striking near.
My heart, silly and stubborn, was still not coming out of the daze and the swoon,
as if in your place, death would be gratified to take me away. 
Five variants on the Lazarus theme
quietly played somewhere away.
Perhaps that was the way you chose to resurrect yourself and fly away.
By Sushama Karnik.
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