I was born in January,

and died then too.

When He had breathed,

his last on my birthday.


My soul has been flitting about,

lost, bewildered and bereft.

I am a living corpse,

my shallow breaths backing,

my hollow claim.


How is it that we go on,

pretending all’s well?

Why don’t we just surrender,

the reins of our existence,

to the grim reaper when he visits?


What gives us the strength,

To stay back when he is taking,

away our loved ones with him?


What makes us linger on?

When do we say it’s enough?

Why do I open my eyes in October,

and say ‘I am waking up now,

that September has ended’?

Only to close them again in January,

when my life had ended.





Sulekha aka Lucks



This post is a part of <a title=”WOW” href=”http://blog.blogadda.com/2012/09/28/write-over-the-weekend-wow-indian-blogs”>Write Over the Weekend</a>, an initiative for <a title=”Indian Bloggers” href=”http://www.blogadda.com”>Indian Bloggers</a> by BlogAdda

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