By Snigdha Priya
I hope we have
Our small gatherings one day
And I also
Hope that while we’re there,
You have someone
Waiting for you
Back home
Who irons your shirts and puts
The flowers you
Got her in a vase
On the dining table.
I hope she spells your name
In every conversation
She has with
God, and thinks of you
In every fear she faces.
And I hope that
By that time,
We can look each other in
The eye
And talk about the weather,
Or the rising prices
And you can bring
Your kids, and they can
Call me aunt.
And by then you will have
Taken to
Not thinking of me
And calling me
By name on the
Rare occasion that
You do. And I hope
That when I meet
Their mother she says ‘Oh,
I never knew you two were
Friends!’ and I hope
Your kids look
Just like her and not
Like you so
I don’t have to think
Of what could have been.
I hope
That you’re happy
So I don’t have to
Smile, widening
The same lips that once kissed
Your face.
And by then, I will
Have realised that all
My grief, throughout
The years,
Has led me
Up to this precise
Moment-
Standing in a room full
Of people
With two strangers- one of whom
I get to call
My last love.