Man,
Is blessed,
Divinity is Merciful,
Gives amazing strength
Otherwise, none, would
Deposit, loved ones into
Oblivion.
If birth is natural,
So is death,
Intertwined for sojourn
Of a period unknown.
Birth assures death
Of life eternal, in
Hereafter.
Death is festive
In mood and colors,
Arrives unannounced,
No trumpets, no bugles,
No sirens, no wailing
With Hope of felicity,
Supreme.
I fear death, not,
Of my own, but all.
Mourning was that lass,
As beautiful as can be,
With surrounding siblings,
Caught unawares of loss of
Mother.
She cloistered them all,
Within the wraps of her warmth
Of undiluted love, similar, no less,
Of the doting mother.
Noble and chaste,
The Mary in life, was
She.
As the hearse departed,
She lay devastated,
Tears would swell and spill
On those rosy cheeks,
To that sight, the thirty month,
Or so, infant, failed to
Reconcile.
A tear drop glistening,
Over the deep green pupils,
Provoked rebellion in the infant,
Oblivious to the somber setting,
The infant, could take, no pain,
He stood in the midst of all,
Singing.
Infant Nero, fiddling and dancing,
Dried the tears away,
And brought upon the moonlit face,
Amused, She was, but Smile,
She did, just as all present,
A minuscule minute, he took away,
Pain.
Her smile, she said, to the infant,
A score years later,
Instilled determination,
To wage a battle, To conquer the odds,
And raise all siblings, at her feet, was
Victory.
Death is a trail,
Not for the departed,
But for the survivors,
It’s awesomeness leaves
Behind devastation;
To the departing, it ushers,
Hope.
Death is now,
It has no morrow,
Certain in place, in time,
The jaws of it,
Bite into,
The old and young,
Equally.
Thirty nine elapsed,
Days and nights,
The silent wailing,
That screamed within,
Must stop now,
As a tribute to her,
Love.
Remembering alone is not love,
Continuing her nobility, is.
Resolve required now and here
To shed no tears, not to sorrow,
But to smile, rejoice, her presence,
And practice, nobility, learnt at her,
Feet.
Her legacy has to be
Of joys immense,
Of laughter at zenith,
Of known decibels,
Of Hope, unbounded,
Of Faith unflinching, in
God.
Death is invariably early,
Never does it arrive late,
We remain in its quest,
It embraces only, at a,
Time and place, known
But only to,
Divinity.
We lie in wait,
To meet her again,
But this time, fortunately, eternally,
Her serene presence surrounds me,
None knows for,
Whom the bell tolls,
Mystery.
Sirajuddin Aziz
1st February, 2025, Karachi.
