Dr Shamim ali

Eternal Life - Poem by Dr Shamim ali

All her life she longed for a home
While crossing the snow clad mountains
Thinking of her own home
A wooden cottage,
Astounding, beautiful, breath-taking
Every minute of every day
Thinking of her wooden cottage
Hoping and wondering if she could have one
Place where she would feel safe
Comfortable and settled
A wooden door, bearing her name or
A small slab of concrete
Her name engraved in a simple metal
Where moon shimmers and forms huge cloud-banks in the sky
Where splendid dawn and dusk confers blessings upon it
Where waterfalls dropping from high above provide a reason to live.

Place where she would make pastures out of desert
Place where she would think of cherries
Place where she would think of apple trees
Place where she would think of butterflies
Place where she would think of humming bees
Place where she would think of high trees around her house and the brickwork roof on it
Place where she would think of a huge chandelier in the top of the entrance hallway.
Place where she would think of white marbled stairs up to the first floor.
Place where she would think of Reflection, of which the light will be a great source
Place where she would think even more about the lovely exquisite wooden cottage
Place where her heart would dwell
Place where she would encourage the bumble bees in her garden
Place where she would allow butterflies pollinating the flowers
Place where warm air would be infused with fine scent

One day I felt her rising out of moist earth as Petrichor,
Her carcass was there
I stood still at her grave and wept
Felt somebody at my back
Asked me not to weep
Ensured me that she was not there
Told me that she had become a cool breeze
Assured me that she had became a diamond that glints on snow
Swayed me that she had become sunlight that ripens grain
Asked me not to stand at her grave and moan

'I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond that glints on snow.
I am sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken
In the morning's hush
I am the quick uplifting rush
Of calm birds in spherical flight
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there,
I did not die'

Did not listen to her
Turned my back
Fixed my eyes on the grave stone
It was veiled with leaves and vines
I sighed and spent all day pulling weeds
Eliminated all moss from the headstone
Scrubbed the tombstone
Tried to read the epitaph
Came into my sight another time
Held her tight in my arms
Harped the same tune
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there,
I did not die!
Wanted to convince me
I am not dead
It’s my body sleeping in there
It’s a carcass that people look at in disgust

'It’s like make up that I wear over my soul
All bodies are like weeds
Just like weeds disgrace all beautiful flowers
My body was like those weeds
It was a disgrace to my beautiful soul'

I pulled all weeds out
Returned it to dust
That is her home
Now she has an eternal resting place!
She said, Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there,
I did not die
Find me in sunrise
Explore me in the moonlight
Feel me with dew drops
I come out with rising sun now
Laze around the whole day under the sun
Meandering whole day here and there
New places fill my heart with thrill and joy
Discovering the mysteries of the universe
Exploring the snow clad mountains
I am not there,
I did not die..!

By, Shamim Ali

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 26, 2011

Poem Edited: Sunday, July 3, 2011

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