HOURS V

Posted on in My Creative Content, Poetry

(for my father)

how she lured you into her trap
how you stretched your hand and
held hers,
– that woman called death –
and fled into her realm;
i do not understand
i do not wish to comprehend
– Sept 2010

* * *

yes, of course, death
shall come  for me, for us, in
the end

but before it ascends from beneath,
riding its angel
i will to live, and not die.

still, there are days all i want is
to disappear

disappear and dissolve into thin
air –
simply evaporate into nothingness

* * *

i, daddy’s little girl, watched my
father’s black coffin
sink into a structured hole in red earth, freshly dug
by robust young men whose faces i
cannot recall

all my life he had been invincible
and he that was once so magnificent
now lay,immovable, unfeeling,
corrupting

as the coffin lowered, all human accolades
stripped bare and naked, no tinsel
lustre
to lure me in, hemmed in

all that my father had lived for,
that was apart from God,
was nothing to him then –

none of it could save him from Death

now,all these years since,
i am still
peeling off layers and layers
and layers of all that
purports to matter but doesn’t –

a-lot purports to matter but doesn’t

* * *

those whom i envy most are the
ignorant, the imbeciles
they move about, un-bothered,
unhindered,
unaware of what is coming

(is there any joy in living like
this?)

* * *

as a mock token, atop of its sting,
and the heavy fold of grief it
hands you
and the permanent separation from
your beloved,
death makes you a back-boneless
being

spineless,

life becomes an eel – within grasp

but too slippery –
too
difficult
to
hold
on
to

i think i was twenty, i cannot
recall very well, so much happened before and after and even then, so much happened too

i was walking fast, very fast, heel
upon concrete, will upon all i thought i could never forfeit. Nairobi beneath
me and around me, and there, right there, with flesh, and blood,and bone, and sweat moving
within me, in my person

and around me, past me, in my direction, on foot, in metal fabrications fueled by engines and God-knows what else, i broke down in the middle of
the street

one moment i was walking, walking,
the next i was weeping, chocked, weeping. and it was sunny

it was so goddamn
sunny

and my father had been dead a while

but the world had not stopped. i was
walking and living but a world had stopped. i was weeping and wondering how can
the world not stop? a world had ended and mine had stopped, and i had stooped, and how come the world was just rattling on, how come it had not stopped? how come?
and i was realizing the world will go on, with or without
my father. i was realizing i will go on with or without my father.

(when one weeps, do you weep for
yourself or for the beloved?)

i was realizing the world will go
on, with or without me. i was realizing those i love and care for will keep on going on with or without me.  i kept on walking and i found i had stopped weeping as suddenly
as i had begun. i kept on walking but my spine was melting, i kept on walking
but i was melting, melting, melting away

walking down the street, now close
to Railways, i should have willed myself to take a train, i should have willed myself to let
it coil me to whatever end it rattled on to; i should have willed it to hold me in its old seats till i became
whole again

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