By Poonam Baid
Have you seen death?
An abandoned little girl asked me, With no feeling except sadness,
Sadness which I wanted to suck out of her, Sadness that reflected through her shiny crystal tears.
I said,
I'm seeing it now, In every flower, Every tree,
On the ground on which these feet stand.
They have the golden dust of our loved ones,
The brave ones who fought for us,
Those of a boy,
A mother lost at the age of 9,
But how did they grow into these beautiful instruments of nature,
filling the silent air with melodies?
It was the tear of that mother, That son,
And you, my darling,
Who's watered and set them free,
Free from this cruel world.
They're not lost, Or up in the sky,
Or in some vacuum of this universe,
They're right here,
Becoming the foundation on which you stand tall.
The soils on which you fall,
They are the ones that keep you grounded,
And their branches swirl around you with love,
As they blush and kiss you,
Through those petals.
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