Stop And Stare Poem by Namrata Das Adhikary

I was eight, a man bereft of life
Cradled in his shroud, preparing for a flight;
Into the world where no one would cry,
From mortal to eternal, bidding a goodbye-
To the folks around.

They just look, peep into his shallow eyes,
Little did I realize;
I was among the folks who'd just sympathize,
Sympathize for the ones' dear lost treasure;
How much that hurts, I couldn't measure.

Days pass by, ten years from then
I'm eighteen, memories beget
Happy and sad, but never of the men,
Who had left us;
Since the thought never devise any fuss.

A hopeful day, hopeful eyes
Of deeds, bonds and ties.
I come across a man bereft of life,
Cradled in his shroud, preparing for a flight;
I closed my eyes and wondered.

Watchful eyes, coated with pain
Prayers roll by,
Seeking for joy: with tears to drain;
Bereaved like never I walked away
This is how our life would sway...