The sun came in from the same window,
splashed
pale peach dawn on her still face.

People moved in and out of the room
in hushed hesitance.
I did not know if she was aware,
or understood
that I sang
her favorite bhajans of Meera,
and expected her to nod in approval.
She was still breathing. I was sure
the notes trickled in with her breath.

As Meera sang to Krishna
in spiritual frenzy
my mother must have slipped away.
Her journey took a few hours,
but it gave me some respite
singing to her one last time
what she had taught me…
in emotive, modulated voice.

Musically it sounded so correct,
and the moment was just.
Only, I yearned to know if she had heard.