By Roopjeet Kaur
The air was heavy with whispers, of symphony, of loss and pain,
A rough hand, a trembling hold, a fading word with silent bow,
He mourned his quietness, a voice quiet refrain,
And I bowed whispering only him, his soul, comes to an end.
He told me through the tears, I saw a smile, within the struggle of dying,
A longness for the end, a peace from the muddy ties,
The silent breath, the final cry, a look of melancholy on his face,
And with his peaceful grace, he died within my cold embrace.
My heart, once warm with an endless chase,
Now turned to stone, a hot yet hollow embrace,
I felt, My tears didn't leave in his presence,
So my world goes still as if I lost my only spell.
In the final plea, a hand I could not let go and my pray, till this time that I hold,
It was late as I recall my memories, to mend the bridges, to hold the bestow,
The bitter memories, the anger, the space, all left as I bear his body, cold yet old,
Now when the silence reigns, lay wounded, up and down, all that is left was weight upon my soul.
A stranger facing the mirror, for a dying ember with a frozen tear,
I regret in a bittersweet ache, my silent heart did too break,
The distance that was build on pride, where words were seldom on the icy land
A silent gulf that did not confess, the words of love, didn't spread.
I bid my farewell with the silence in the pool of February night,
"I love you" is the flickered ember that I could not broke,
My father died in a distance, the choked voice that held inside,
I wanted to scream, the words that caught my throat.
Left unsaid, till the end, a fight, a battle that I fought alone.