You lost your first friend to years, and absence mostly,
Growing up, you turned to books, drew yourself close
There are people you lose to places,
They stayed, you left,
You can taste grief like a tablet
stuck in your throat, choking you
There is grief for love almost lost,
Then there is the sensation of numbness
The disbelief that leads you to a state of nothingness
Vacant spaces in you that you try to fill with words
But it's inevitably their words you chance upon
There is a constant contradiction of remembering and forgetting
Remembering a certain winter afternoon spent soaking up the sun
And forgetting the details- the mouth, the eyes, the hands of the person
You, who all these times have never turned to prayers,
Are found following the rituals you have seen your mother perform.
At this moment, events are unfolding over which you have no control
They will leave terrible imprints on you
You lose people but you cling on to the notion
That you will find them again.
Run into them in a crowded street, perhaps in another country.
Perhaps twenty years down the line.
You lose people to death
Which seems the most bewildering to you
Because it is so final that you can't get a grip on it.
It evades you like morning dreams on waking up.
He had last asked, "Will you wait for me?"
You had said, "Always".