Tuesday, February 16, 2010

The exit door

There she sits
Midst of the crowd
With her hands folded
Looking down

Her thoughts
Conquered by one thing
Rest. In peace

As live souls go by
She in silence
Sit unmoved

A drop of warm water falls on her hands
She looks up to know from where it came
A woman with white hair
Her face robbed of its youth, stood
Quivering, muttered a word and walked out
Thru the open door

As her shadow stepped out
She looked
Remembered, the times of her youth
And, her childhood
That ran into her loving arms
The very arms on which she would sleep
The very arms that would weave
Spectacular stories for her
Before she slept

Now, alone, buried
Among hundreds of
Sorrowful faces
Her hands felt for the last time
The hair, it didn’t have the sweet aroma
Of that sweet smelling oil
Nor did the hands
Clasp hers’ when she lovingly kept on it

A tear roll down
Thru her face
As they brought that black cover
Hiding the face which
Used to smile and laugh a lot
The hands that embraced her
Told a million words
That none could understand
Than her

“Its time”
Someone said
I’m on this brown polished chair
Like the most
I stand
Without a tear
To walk away to oblivion

Expecting all that I can’t do
From the divine

Wishing these clouds were dark
Hoping tears would fall from heaven
On this un-moistened earth
And, a breeze of comfort
Would embrace her
I walk away
thru the exit door

Written by Vinal Raj R
10/02/2010