Listen...

In your eyes I have seen the fear

Of the silence that follows death.

Un-erasable, un-quiet-able silence.

Of the loneliness that ensues

And the realisation –

That the dead will never return.

That no matter how earnestly you try

Conversations will always be one-sided

And that there will be no more answers

No matter how many times you

Reword the question or cunningly

Try to manipulate it, to suit you.

That un-kept promises will remain that way

And the embarrassing secret which

You were saving for the next rainy day

Will remain untold. Forever.

In your movements I have sensed

The frustration of want.

Anything, everything!

To hold them close just one more time

But all you can gather around

Is a bunch of memories and pictures that fade.

Every night you fall asleep

And the faces corrode – little by little

Till all that you remember

Are fragmented micro-pixels of their lives

All jumbled up and strewn all over.

And you loathe sleep.

But you can never get rid of it.

In your poetry I have read

The darkness of hopelessness and guilt

Of having survived when clearly

They deserved to live and not you.

Because no matter how long you live, you will

Never become even half the people that they were.

And with every gasp of breath that you 

Pull into your lungs

You wish for it to be poisoned

So you could become one of them.

Maybe someday...
Someday you will have your way

And finally I will understand the intensity

Of all that you go through now.

Photo courtesy: deviantart.com