Episodes Life is Made of
Dealing with finality and moving on
“I’m not afraid of death; I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” ― Woody Allen
One day, it’s a hard
Struggle to stay afloat,
The after, crossing the
Threshold peacefully.
Every episode comes to
An end
But is there a closure?!
Episodes,
Arrange side by side,
Like films pegged
On a burlap rope, conjuring images
Happy, funny, all-consuming,
Sad, —
Propelling through the tide
And ebb, they sail.
And one day, one film
walks with the breeze
never to return,
No peg can hold fort.
The place left vacuum
Stares at you,
Tugs at your heart,
You grope for succour
Knowing there is no
Earth beneath your
feet,
But you still want to stand,
Breathe and live.
You ransack every nook
To look for the lost film,
Naïve soul believes
It will come back one day…
Then, one day you stop.
You stop running against
The gale churning inside,
Let it rest,
Stare at the silver night,
Allow the passing puff to
caress your face,
Trying to locate it amongst
the stars, embarking on its cosmic
Journey,
You feel your eyes giving
Vent to your ardour,
Pain tasting sweet….
Days fly.
Memories replace episodes,
Now rowed and pegged.
Windows closed. No breeze.
You come home
To a smiling face on the mantle
A voice from the frame queries
‘Coffee?’
You smile and walk past.
A string of episodes.
Death.
Life.
This poem comes from a very personal corner. I lost a dear family member to post-Covid complications today.
As I sat to write, this is all I could entreat of myself.
So decided to park my thoughts with friends Somsubhra Banerjee Priyanka Srivastava and their wonderful publication Literary Impulse, as I was not sure which pub to knock.
Thanking you for your time and read.
