It's been quite sometime that you've gone away -
there's a creeper growing in one of the cracks
on the ledge - rather a pungent bouquet.
It's sinking in that you're not coming back.
Your coffee mugs lie dusty with disuse.
Your bedroom slippers are neat on the rack.
Absence feels like a gently spreading bruise -
a purple tide, because you're not coming back.
Vases and glasses wear chips on their rims,
pages crumble along silverfish tracks,
even the light in these rooms is muted dim.
A strange cast that knows you're not coming back.
I still open windows. Dust off the years.
Keep keys safe. Just in case. Though you aren't here.
~~*~~
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February has just zoomed past me. There's been a family wedding - so a mega reunion of the clan, gathering for a few days from all corners of not just India but the world. That's always super pleasant, to catch up with the gang. Cousins remain my firstest, funnest and bestest Valentines ever.
For every high there will be an immediate and corresponding low - the offspring picked up some ghastly bug, therefore an ER visit had to be made, stressful at the time but all okay now. This too is a milestone, first time admission in the hospital. Anyway, all's well that ends well.
As you can imagine, not very conducive to poetry-ing. However, there's no control on thinking. The thoughts come unbidden, without any respect for timing or place or state of mind - whether the aforesaid mind is panicking in the ER or teasing out the meanings behind the rituals at a wedding ceremony. Always a chance to get fresh angles to love throughout the year. Weddings can celebrate it publicly and very visibly, with solemnly taken vows, effusive displays of affection and joy, heaps of tinsel and glitz. Love can equally mean a whole host of quieter, everyday things. Long loves are mostly made up of ordinary stuff - giving a cup of coffee, refuelling the car, adjusting the thermostat because you notice the sheen of perspiration on a loved one's forehead. Just small acts of consideration and courtesy, offered freely without having to be asked.
At the wedding, a cousin of mine saw my father in my son. We talked about our loved ones who weren't present, remembering past weddings they had attended. "How diminished we are now!" my cousin said. But are we really? They weren't there physically but they permeate our life. We see them everywhere, in our children and in their values handed down. The memories are fresh, almost tangible. And we carry our departed loved ones with us into every family reunion and into everyday dinner conversations. We tell and retell the stories they told us, hear their voices in our own and laugh again at all the same places. We keep the keys safe. Is this not love too?
Hari OM
ReplyDeleteIt absolutely is! YAM xx
As long as we love, they will always be with us.
ReplyDeleteGlad everyone is healthy now!
Yes it is. And the older we get, the more have gone on, leaving us here a bit longer.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautifully poignant poem! You’ve captured the essence of loss and the lingering memories that remain after someone has gone. The imagery of the dusty coffee mugs and the muted light evokes such a strong sense of absence. I love how you illustrate the mundane objects that hold so much meaning—it's a reminder of how love and memory intertwine in our everyday lives.
ReplyDeleteThe way you describe the creeping vines and the fading pages speaks to the slow passage of time and how we continue to hold onto hope, even in loss. It resonates deeply and beautifully conveys that this kind of love—though marked by absence—still exists in the spaces we once shared. Thank you for sharing this heartfelt piece!
You are invited to read my new blog post: https://www.melodyjacob.com/2025/02/our-pre-valentine-visit-to-pitlochry.html
brought tears to my eyes. Not a year yet since my father passed. Big sigh. I pull out a card to send to him, and alas put it back. The memory is love.
ReplyDeleteHope your offspring is fully healed. Always scary in the ER.
Take good care and thanks for writing this lovely poem.
Hi Nila - yes ... they are always with us - I'm from a small personal family ... though cousins are more numerous ... I'm pleased your offspring has recovered - those bugs are horrible - take care ... March tomorrow - lighter and longer days = bliss! Cheers Hilary
ReplyDeleteYes, a good time to go down the memory lane, leading to a lot of positive vibes and connections.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written. I love how you ended the poem and the post script that followed with "keeping the keys safe". I can sense that you're the keeper of the keys in your family, providing much needed reminders of the presence of departed loved ones and keeping their legacy alive.
ReplyDelete