Kakul

(A poem written a few years ago on the sudden passing away of a colleague)

The slow shutters of grief are down
Fallen on the edge of twilight—
The day divided between we who frown
And you who are woven with light

Some stay on to gild our souls’ tomorrow
Some part to let us seem more human
We barter our mortal voices of sorrow
You listen like the stars, the moon, and sun

Give us the strain of the wooden prayers
That awakened your quiet incense—
The many-armed banyan, for our jaded wares
Where we watch the ivy crawl on the fence

Give us the song you had on your tongue
When you walked like a captain into the sea
When you set sail, and our ancient bells were rung
On a rhyme without a poem, on a shadow without a tree

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Photograph Courtesy: Kev, Pixabay.