Sunday, April 10, 2011


(another entry in my diary - made a year after my mother's death. she, by the way, was the most powerful influence on me.)

A year since she left.

A year since the detonation

In the chest—or brain?

The steadying hand. Stunned Disbelief.

No more.



Deaf to our grief

Dead to our grief

Where are you?

WHERE are you?

Then the vacuum.

The struggle for air in nothingness

Clawing to grasp the reality of absence.

The quake was better.

Can vacuum be so heavy? Oppressive?

Crushing the nerve from feeling the pain?

When was this sunya infused with grief?

When did it happen?

Brine and migraine

Sobs toppling poise?

Stealthily, absence grew into day to day existence

But - - - -WHERE are you?

Something in me sometimes screams

Can you just cease to be? What strange heaven bewitches you

That you choose not to reach out

And balm my pain

Which once you could not bear?

You too, heartless, ma?

Heart, I guess, belongs to the flesh and bone.


1 comment:

anilkurup59 said...

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight". ~Kahlil Gibran