My Weekend Poems# 6
Tragedy of the Century
When Death Lost Dignify
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Sorry, I am sorry – very sorry
seek apology – beseech apology – implore apology
beg – pray: apologise, please apologise.
You had surrendered your holy possession
the life in your body, soul to liberate
keeping the trust in me
to have your corpse
just for a funeral.
You were kind and considerate
with ever welling passion for me
to lit and fuel my life -
learning from you:
dignity for dead.
But sorry, I am sorry – very sorry
I tried, tried with intensity,
intense intensity, and more intensity
begging, begging and still begging
for a crematorium space to lit your pyre.
Refused – rebuked – scolded, without let
I had to carry you on, on and on
crematorium to crematorium
here, there – there and there
for my duty to lit your pyre.
Sorry, I am sorry – very sorry
for you had died of Corona:
shrouded - body bagged in plastic
and defined: untouchable for funeral
to find no place - no face – no space.
Oh! Father you lie sealed motionless
on the Earth, shrouded facing the Sky
I, zipped in a PPT kit run hither and thither
between the Earth and the Sky
to find a space to make a pyre for you.
I do not lose resolve to lend you dignity
but, Ah! my body, on the run, simmers in my kit
in hot pursuit in a hot scorching summer day
on cold still tracks, wishing to find a crematorium -
but, sorry, I am sorry for my inability to hold.
I shout, I cry, I wail for a pyre
I yell, I scream, I howl for water -
neither for you, my father, I find a pyre
nor do I find a mouthful of water for me
father, you go longing for fire, and I for water.
I know my father, you are exhausted
so am I dehydrated and consumed
even sun is, now to set, to call it a day
thus, I leave my body to come to you
father, hold me close, very close, quite close.
I was not let, give dignity to your death, Here
I promise – promise, faithfully promise
to lend you dignity There
now I am not sorry, beseech no apology
for I come to you, to escort you, to take care of you.
Please don’t lose trust in me, my father
today, on this father’s day - Here
I had nothing to wish and say
for, Here, the man is dead, death not to dignify
so, I accompany you, be sure, very sure- There
We will have Father’s day together to cheer.
Arvind Shah ©0622
(This poem was written by me on father’s day; based on the fact when two sons carrying the corpse of their father died searching a crematorium for the last rites of their father: Jammu)