Days back my mother recollected
events of few days from my childhood.
Grandfather, my finger in his one hand
on his daily routine of morning walk.
Since then, I daily endeavour to dig
deep inside my memory to achieve
even a faintest touch of his old skin
on my tiny palms lost in flood of time.
How would it have felt to my little heart,
Grandfather! yours close proximity
How would my small mouth have chewed
bits of breakfast stuff you did feed me.
I look at your face daily in a photograph
I have no idea taken when. Your face
seems calm. Your eyes relaxed. What love dripped words you would have spoken to me!
In that other photograph where I am
lying in your arms. Few months aged me.
You appear to struggle in holding soft
limbs of your first granddaughter.
Care radiates from your texture. If
you were here today Grandfather!
Painful it would have been to hear
wishes of death articulated in my poetry.
But why! It could have been you,
my trembling fingers in your strong hand
on your daily routine of morning walk
Where thoughts of death forbidden to accompany me.
© Nivedita