To Mesho (returning from Kalimati Jn. a.k.a. Tatanagar)

I don’t like how you lie there

But your eyes search me out

Looking for a familiar face

Among a sea of servants.

I like the way you talk

Memories from the old earth

Your youth, my father, the stories

That scramble to be heard.

I watch you as you try

To lift those atrophied limbs

Limbs once so adept and strong

That held a perfect swing.

I admire your courage

Your patience in defeat

I doubt I have that skill

That fortitude in grief.

Yet, I hate I cannot be here

The words jostle, make no sound

Stay safe, stay fearless,

Stay yourself. And I? I’ll be around.

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