A Champa Garland Poem by Thrity Bharucha

A Champa Garland

I often see you sit
beside the champa tree
I planted thirty summers ago.
You never thrilled the way I did
when the first bud burst in flower.

But now you caress
its soft green leaves.
Do they remind you of what is past?
Of the hands that tended it,
many years ago?

I read your thoughts,
I sense your pain.
I never, never thought you cared.

Your eyes are pensive now,
as you weave
a champa garland.
White hair falls
across your face.
You push it off
with impatience.
I never, never thought
you cared.

You continue to twine the flowers
one after the other,
in solitary file.

I always thought you were
indifferent
to love.
When my soul did burst in flame,
your complacence
shattered my spirit.
I never, never thought it mattered.

O, how I ached for a gesture
from you,
to show that you cared.
I never knew love could be contained
quietly, in one's heart.
That love was not all gesture.

You never showed
you cared.
Till now:
I watch with grief
As you reminisce.

If only you had woven me this garland
when I was;
instead of decking now
my grave with it.

As I watch you grieving now,
I weep in solitude.

If I could but wipe
your pain away..
If I could but give
my heart once more..
But I can't.. I can't..
for.. I am no more.

Thrity E. Bharucha