Today the heart is sombre
with gloom of bereavement.
The malancholia of
conflicting emotions
roils up in ringlets
inside the heart,
and ascends plaintively
like deoxygenated blood
flowing through the veins,
slowly without vigour.
As it ascends,
the Melancholia of bereavement
chokes our voice,
numbs our ears and
brings us tears.
At its pinnacle
when it reaches the forehead
Melancholia of bereavement
culminates into a devouring vortex
sucking in every ounce of inner peace,
rendering the mind impassive!
There, it keeps whirling
wild and unabated,
churning out
doldrums of solitude and despair.
Neither mollified through weeps
nor be lulled to sleep,
the melancholia of bereavement
is fuelled and funneled
by the incessant stormy
rains of poignant reminisces,
dead faces and echoing of voices.
And when this vortex of melancholia
finally subsides.
It leaves behind
desolated spirit and mind.
I wonder where do
people go after death?
Probably I’d like to make a visit
and meet them,
say my last hello,
stay there for sometime,
ask them if they’re doing well
and assure them of
all’s good here too.
Dear God!
Let no one suffer from the
melancholia of bereavement.
Dear God! You’re on a death streak!
And thus I pray to thee,
let there be a natural calamity,
So big! So disastrous!
It takes us all,
in one shot,
in one go!
