Death and Me

a poem by Ashish Singal

Tell me the story, Grandma
and I will record it.
Record it for when,
After you go on the four men.
Do I expect you to depart then?
Actually, everybody knows when.
I think of the world without you
No! I don’t want to,
but my eye lashes touch each other
and I see that faint picture.
All know you are on your last
as if waiting for tears to blast.
This is no time to say ‘why’
but why to wait for death to cry?
This is a time of family sorrow
but I think more of my reaction tomorrow.
I feel like an alien
to whole this situation.
Grandma, I want to touch you only once.
But is it fine among all those elderly ones?
The only idea of losing you
is a dead end for me.
Save you – Do I beat my chest
or pray on my knee?
Hold on Grandma!
Your tea must be on the way.
How can you go to sleep,
when without it you don’t start your day?
I could see your eyes closing
and nobody else among the present few.
Feel like the least related to you
as I stand near the door while everybody cries on you.