The Shawl

by Bibhu Padhi (April 2014)

You died at the end of

winter, earlier this year,

 

the end of November.

 

The cold in Dhenkanal

has my tendons and ligaments

imprisoned in pain..

 

When you gave me the shawl

four years ago, I thought

it was a gift like any other.

 

But you knew what it meant to you.

time being what it is

 

look back or praise

what was good and precious.

 

Dreams that we are, we forget

to remember the dreams of others.

 

But this evening, I wrap the shawl

around these frail shoulders

and watch The Last Samurai.

 

Stories of win and loss, death

and birth, are here and elsewhere.

 

 

 

Keep us warm, as if it were always

early March, teach us to be strong, like

the sun, fresh like the love we must

 

donate to all those who need us

in the dreams of our own absence.

 

THE HARPERCOLLINS BOOK OF ENGLISH POETRY (2012). .

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