A Blackhole of Longing

You were always so meticulous
Remembering to renew the driving license ahead of time
Knowing what could make things right and bearable
For your own people as well as others

That day began like any other normal day
With you doing everything to make the day bright

Smiling to yourself about the surreptitious drink
That you had already promised yourself 
To accompany the chicken that you planned to cook that night
Musing over the story left at a crucial point in the plot 
Bookmarked with your favourite reading glasses on the side table

The car came from nowhere
On that leafy silent road 
Knocking you down along with your plans 
Laying you comatose like a fragile doll

Wrapped in hospital green
Under miasma of medicines 
instead of your signature Old Spice
shorn head glinting in neon lights 

Lips sealed by the ugly ventilator plug

You who valued
Dignity and beauty in the bleakest of circumstances
Lay in a general ward
surrounded by the dying gasps of strangers

Enveloped in the agony and desperation of those who loved you
periodically twitching your limbs in a desperate attempt 
as if to absorb the shock of life’s imminent parting
You really weren’t ready just then

Your body was trussed up and tossed into the metal bin
Wow! the jerk on the head didn’t hurt even one bit
The dead are thankfully immune from stuff like this
Then why was his daughter wincing in pain
If only he could lift his lifeless hand to console her

Death is bewildering and abrupt
What he would willingly give for just one last evening
To open up his prized single malt without fear
Finish the book, talk to his daughters 
and take the dog out for a final walk

The body has a strange way of giving as well as taking away identity
Erasing name, religion, deeds and all that one had held dear

Finally, he has gone from this life
All that he has left is a blackhole of longing
Swirling with what has been left unsaid. 

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