Deathless Poem by Prabhakar Subramaniam

Finally, little there was that was left

After the past had been wept over

After it was understood that all the breast-beating

Did not bring back the dead

That one fell day could take away

All that was thought would stay

That the images meant little

With the object gone

That some journeys

Had no purpose

Though they all had to end

In different ways

The ending making as little sense

As the travelling

The jungle path was full of thorns

And stones and teasing flowers

And the shoulders burnt with the burden

That the singing, mocking laughter

And curses sometimes lightened

I remember now - - that day the kuyil kept singing

Even as the bier was being made

Daring the unseen stalker

To come and still, if it could, spring's voice