AWAKENED
A calm Sunday afternoon,
The kind which gives room,
For the spirit to drift lazily,
Perhaps even intercept stray signals,
From departed souls wandering aimlessly,
Mid-air;
Deep was the old man’s slumber,
Heavy was the resultant reverberating snores,
You’d think a propeller doused in muddy water!
If he wasn’t assaulting the airwaves with his crude raspy
snores,
You’d find him faithfully listening,
To every euphony of the sounding gizmo,
Strategically placed close beside its comrade –
Ancient hereditary mat!
African as he was,
But this day,
He chose to forgo his usual camaraderie with the beloved
receiver,
And made his way to the village graveyard,
Just behind the old memorial church,
‘Twas well sculptured,
Sights of beautiful array of lilies,
Scalped through the even topography,
Giving it a polished picture,
The whiteness symbolic to the silence and purity,
In this particular ambiance,
Probably stillness clouding the minds of forgotten men!
Bits of clay pots,
Adorned the grass,
Toning it friendly...
It was quite a homey touch ironically created,
In a bed of vegetative loss,
Creeping with confined memories;
Not even all this artificial majesty,
And blindfold decorations,
Could furrow out his depression,
Nor block the sadness,
That gleamed into the windows of his soul,
Like sunlight streams,
Falling on the very nature’s blanket,
That stood before his gaze!
Circumfused in darkness…
Laid his soul,
Isolated,
It seemed like the perfect spot,
To host a meeting of regrets,
And unforgettable disappointments’,
With no need of formalities,
Nor pleasantries,
Since the mere presence of silence,
Attentively was enough “shriek” to call to attention,
The state of his thoughts and feelings.
Man of sorrows he was,
Everything happened so fast,
He didn’t have time,
To think or react,
He just instinctively,
Wrapped his remorse,
In the fringes of time and space,
His anger had tried to kick a fuss,
But what more could be held,
Least salvaged,
If the center begins to crumble,
Right before your eyes,
Altering every bit of sensible counter action;
He was left impassive!
If only senility could take away,
This cup of loss from him!
He couldn’t cry
Tears had pricked the back of his eyes,
He endured it knowing the thorns of African-ism,
Harbored the most poisonous sting,
Dare he shed a drop before the onlookers…
It was funny,
The more he thought about this happening,
The more the little flutters of happy memories,
Like butterflies,
Elude him,
Trail off and disappear from his grasp,
Without a trace!
He couldn’t show himself to be weak,
Even worse be submissive,
To the hurricane before him!
Not even if it kicked a storm,
As it did every other night,
When he closed his eyes...
Roughing his skies,
Into a scarcely meditated sleep!
Even more “funny” –
At the wake of it all,
No whining,
No temper tantrums,
Nor angry accusations,
Had been witnessed from him,
Only silent grief,
Which anonymously took shape,
In the unsettling,
Peace-violating,
Horrendous experience,
That featured loosing trail of a good scent,
Only to be replaced with a foul smell –
Memories past!
‘Stress is neutral’
As his father used to say,
It’s neither ‘good nor bad’,
Man has to adapt,
If he has any chance to survive,
An African man especially,
Needs to be apt,
Not tightly clinging to ancient ways,
But rather making pact with new ways,
Since our very existence,
Depends on our ability,
To boldly integrate,
The world of inevitability,
With an understanding subservience.
All too often,
His vivid imagination recreated,
What had happened to his loved ones,
The quarantine,
Followed by a slow fade,
Mocking decay,
Into the world of the dead,
Indeed it was a wave of affliction,
Sweeping across his mental land,
Leaving no stone of sadness unturned,
Along its wake!
A bitter loss culminated months of intense suffering,
The whole family gone!
Yet it’s ironic,
How silent beauty was paraded,
By the lilies above the surface of the graveyard,
While beneath,
Lied a massive wasteland!
The more he thought about the flowers,
The less the noises,
The less he heard this voices,
The more limpid he had himself,
THINK!
