By Abhai Singh Tanwar
If I were to say goodbye,
what will you write
on my grave?
If I were to go away,
pen down something
on my last day.
If I were to put
my thoughts to rest,
will you pick up yours
from where
I will be finished?
If I were to say goodbye,
what will you write
on my grave?
Are those words
as kind as a nun,
or words that will
stink like landfills
of painful memories?
If I were to say goodbye
what will you write
on my grave?
I wish I could
summon my shadow
as you write about
the absolute density
of my darkness.
The volume of tension,
aggression, and anxiety.
The tons of trauma,
a lot of adversities.
The nights, isolated
in loneliness. The dreams
that failed to achieve
any greatness.
If I were to say goodbye,
what will you write
on my grave?
I wish I could
summon my light
as you write about
the virtues that
I set for myself.
If I failed
a million times,
but I gave my all,
more than anyone,
that is it.
If the perfect
gesture of love
existed and I failed
to achieve it,
I am content, I exceeded
my life's worth pursuing
whatever I could give.
If I were to say goodbye
what will you write
on my grave?
I want you
to remember
how we met.
Whether I
shook your hand, or
kissed your neck.
I want you to dive
in the suffocating
depths of honesty,
and engrave
over my head:
How blissful?
How awkward?
How much desired?
How much unwanted,
all of it was?
Forget my grave
for this moment,
if I were to say
my last words to you,
then so be this:
When I was
burnt to ashes,
when I lost
all warmth inside,
you were in between
many that either
killed my fairy tales
or resurrected
my destiny.
Either way,
I am surrendering
with gratitude
what I could not control,
to you, a part of my
beloved history.