December the 5th

had you your body

I would have called to say

“Happy Birthday”

your ‘Thank you”

would have come

with the deepest of love.

But only bodies are born

and then die

you live on

a spirit gentle

a presence warm and tender

a smile guileless

in some place

where dates don’t matter

or even words

and when thoughts fall away

your presence comes as

a soft fragrance

a gentle footfall

a touch soothing

On this day

what can I do

but be present to your presence

be mindful

of your unconditional love

my heart brimming

with utmost gratitude

~~~

The Cord

For those mothers who have lost a child, and those who have lost their mother;


The Cord

We are connected,
My child and I, by
An invisible cord
Not seen by the eye.

It's not like the cord
That connects us 'til birth
This cord can't been seen
By any on Earth.

This cord does it's work
Right from the start.
It binds us together
Attached to my heart.

I know that it's there
Though no one can see
The invisible cord
From my child to me.

The strength of this cord
Is hard to describe.
It can't be destroyed
It can't be denied.

It's stronger than any cord
Man could create
It withstands the test
Can hold any weight.

And though you are gone,
Though you're not here with me,
The cord is still there
But no one can see.

It pulls at my heart
I am bruised...I am sore,
But this cord is my lifeline
As never before.

I am thankful that God
Connects us this way
A mother and child
Death can't take it away!

~ Author Unknown

In remembrance

Today, quite unexpectedly, I met you

around a sudden bed in my mind.

Your laughing Buddha face - crinkled,

kindness shining out of twinkly eyes.

You must forgive me the hot tearing of eyes,

the sharp, jagged desire, for a glimpse, a smile,

a warm, glowing conversation around a meal.

And memories flooding, tumbling, unstoppable,

that blindsided me and pinned me down

with hidden talons of longing, for a smile

now erased, for affection, not quite expressed

but arching from heart to heart.

“Surely,” you seemed to say, laughingly,

“you knew of life’s transience, its proclivity to end.

The Siddhartha I Flipkarted to you

would surely have shown you that.”

“Yes, but what about goodbyes, leave-taking?

your kind nature does not befit this abrupt,

sudden departure. You should have

sent a book on coping with loss instead,

with gaping voids that will not be filled.”

But no answer came, only the wind blew

a sad, melancholy tune and the treetops

nodded comfortingly. And, yes,

your smiling, sonorous, silence said,

‘there are no goodbyes for those who live inside.’

Remembering Amitji, a dear friend who passed away a few months ago.