Not A Big Deal Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

In death's dulled aftermath
weeps the house

none sees its tears
for the one it held within
for many years

who it nurtured in walled comfort
inducing a sense of permanence

till last night under the stars
came to fetch him the hearse

and he left without caring a fig
in haste for the final benediction
and the burning logs

feigning a peace

as if he wouldn't miss
and not be missed
under the sun
by anyone.

One man less
the house too would heal.

Death is not a big deal.