A Parting

A Parting

Tonight is for you, as you step

Into the sky, outshining

The moon’s pearl hue.

 

As we languish below,

In lone hospital rooms,

Or our ephemeral bubbles:

 

We will follow your dance

When Death looms large

And casts its shadow,

 

Inescapable, unavoidable,

When its swarthy barge

Sails through dark waters,

 

Defying grief, its brief

strokes, following

Grim orders,

 

Will fetch us, each.

But not tonight.

Tonight

 

You are suddenly 

 

Beyond reach.

Dancing amidst

Those stars we watched

 

And wondered about,

You went out, swiftly,

A candle put out.

 

No flickering, 

Or faltering

But with quiet resolve.

 

Did you dissolve

Into a world 

Still closed to us.

 

Lockdown,

With its long days

And longer noons,

 

Bored us, rejuvenated us

Allowed us time

To reflect, to ruminate

 

Upon the minutes

Which used to pass

In a whirl of umbrellas,

 

Text messages and traffic,

Alarms and deadlines,

Meetings at dusk,

 

Videos and emails,

Pick ups and drop offs,

Life’s disguises

 

Are now stripped bare,

And we stare at its

Primal form.

 

Oh what a scare,

That now, life is life

Until death snatches

 

Us away from the

Feeble clutches

Of emotions and medicine.

 

We cling to fear,

And isolate ourselves,

To stay alive.

 

But

 

There is always light,

In Hope, which keeps

Us afloat

 

In the eye of the storm,

And ties us to joy

While we still belong

 

To a world we love,

The enigmatic sky above,

The unknown depths of

 

Deep blue seas,

To the people who 

Matter enough to 

 

Make us want to extend

Life’s uncertain lease.

Unforgettable characters

 

Hidden in the pages

Of books we treasure,

Strokes of brushes

 

Cherished beyond measure,

Notes of music

Lilting, haunting,

 

Leave us wanting

For more, making us

Wish to remain

 

A while longer,

Inside life’s 

Vibrant door.

 

Dances, strange rhythms,

Perfect choreography,

Adding grace to 

 

The general clumsiness

Of a nebulous world

But

 

Tonight you have

Danced away,

With a virus I’ll never see

 

And though I will never

See you again,

I know you are still

 

As powerful as the virus.

You must be, as that which 

Is invisible to the human eye

 

Has turned out to be

 

Invincible.

 

As endless as the

Boundless sea,

Or the poems

 

Which grace eternity,

Or the treasures of

The Humanities.

 

Artistic Vision

 

To me, poetry has always been a vehicle for chronicling varied emotions. The world has gone through a plethora of upheavals since the beginning of ages, but now finds itself at a tumultuous juncture, where a virus, which evades human vision, has affected the way in which we lead our lives. It has the power to bring the world to a halt. A world which is now taking tentative steps towards reopening its once-gushing stream. I did not lose a loved one to Covid-19, but so many of us have. The statistics we see on the news translate into myriad broken hearts, shattered dreams and inconsolable souls. Fragmented people who are trying to pick up their bits and pieces to restore the now incomplete jigsaws that their lives were. I lost my grandmother to natural causes amidst the lockdown. Grief is an unrelenting emotion, and healing takes a lot of effort and energy. What kept me whole were the beautiful contributions of the artists of yore to the realm of The Arts. Music which soothed and hurt, lyrics which tore my soul but also renewed it, words which calmed and stirred, paintings which reordered my mind’s canvas. This poem emerges from a space of pain, but also at the astonishment of life’s renewal. How the death of a loved one both rips you apart, but also allows you to grow amidst the ashes of loss. The world around me seemed akin to a flower ravaged by the tempest of Covid-19, its petals torn, its stem bruised, but its inner workings trying their best to adapt to the situation. I feel that the Arts is the way in which to chronicle our emotional evolution over the ages, but also provide us with the platform to rest and realise how deeply we are still connected to history. Fear, joy, grief, anxiety, surprise, acceptance-these are things we have always grappled with and always will. While scientists have made the world a better place, a more comfortable place, artists have shown us how to interpret the varying stages of our lives in eternal ways. Their creations will help future generations keep their minds engaged, pacified, stimulated and analytical through times when everything seems topsy-turvy. The Arts cast a critical eye on our world, praising yet correcting it, representing it, enhancing it and sometimes even subverting it. They highlight the illusory aspects of absolute truth, which emerge victorious in times such as these. They help put children to bed, lullabies, compositions and stories, serving as emollients for the human mind. They allow us to be reflective, harsh, disciplined, creative and destructive. They teach us how to rise from the ashes of nothingness, much like a phoenix, they rebuild a broken world. They bring some permanence in a fleeting world, give some structure to the nebulous chaos of our everyday existence and allow us to bask in the light of its hope that when little survives, works of art will. This is what I have tried to capture in the lines of my poem, juxtaposing the fragility of life and the suddenness of departure with the eternal quality of the Arts. I dedicate this poem to each and every one of us who is struggling with loss and grief.