Friday, 20 November 2009

last november post.

What conversation can you have with a corpse? Averting eyes
from the dead. Thinking, I sit here speaking lies.
Not speaking at all. Why did you have to die? Thinking
how we noiselessly cry. Stare at her, the unblinking.

Why do they block your nose with cotton?
You smell sweet, yet are they scared of the rotten
aroma of death?
I still hear your breath.
It smells sweet.

Why do they wish to carry you away-
you, peacefully sleeping?
While the insipid throng is weeping
And those who love you
Stand above you
Smelling the incense and crying.

I wonder which of us is dying.

You always love the dead. They are beyond our hate.
I can't tell you how I feel, I guess it is too late.
I tell you I hear your breath.
It still smells as sweet.
Which of us is dying now?
I'll tell you when we meet.

That alone gives the dying peace and the living hope.
That we shall meet shortly
Even though only one of us is crying-
We never know who's dying.

13 comments:

Bhooter Raja said...

As a poem, this is a truly beautiful poem.





And may she rest in peace.

AUROBOROS banerjee said...

to say this is a brilliant poem would make it facile, almost like a pointless exercise of vain wit that mimes, even rhymes, but never really conveys anything despite intending or proclaiming to say so much.

our little poesies are luxuries we can afford to take, secretly trying to outdo each other and coveting that effort, like pretty strips of confetti that we associate our frozen seconds of pride with, even if it comes at a great personal cost of betraying a bond of fidelity to ourselves. and then you write stuff like this, impressing upon us once again why our attempts to poesy are pretty, nice, beautiful, but so like confetti. never saying anything, not even a due goodbye.

this is so unfair. and yet, so very, very, very beautiful.

Elendil said...

This is absolutely brilliant. And it's got that perfect level of abstraction where you can apply it to your own life and at the same time it makes sense as *your* poem.

Anurima. said...

It is the refrain that got to me.
"I wonder which of us is dying."

You can weave poetry out of thin air my friend. This is beautiful and you are brilliant.

Aparajita Bhattacharya said...

This kind of has the same sense as the ending of Journey of the Magi by T.S. Eliot. There is more to death than just physical death.

Anushka said...

You're ridiculously talented.

Tongue Trip said...

ostensibly written so much with ease, a burdened heart aggrieved. lamenting the death of life and the living both at one time. true, so true.

Priyanka said...

The movie Oye Lucky Lucky Oye has the answer. To why the cotton balls are stuffed into the nostrils.

Tangled up in blue... said...

"You always love the dead. They are beyond our hate."

Thats true, its really true. Only Mark Antony wud disagree.

This was fabulous! It has this pervasive feeling of "See you on the other side." at the same time as "Why why why is this a moving apart?"

Sheesh, your poems make it really hard for me to write coherent comments.. ;)

Grigori Rasputin said...

Why does every adjective (beautiful, brilliant etc.)for this poem sound so lame? And I am not talking about irrelevant (irreverent?) comments such as the "Oye Lucky Lucky Oye" one.

Arse Poetica. said...

@all-

~nevermind~

storyteller said...

Because I will not make a "lame" comment...

:)

Madhuri said...

beautiful and touching!