Ashes Charcoal And Identities Poem by Bishnupada Sethi

There is more chill
In the air than usual.
The night appeared heavier.
Though thenearby landmass was duty bound
To cool the heated sea
But the rule here is broken.
The gush of sea breeze
Blows over the heaps of blazing wooden logs.

The sands have darkened, where
I searched for the dreams of my ancestors
Within those tiny fine charcoals
And the moisture in the air.

We carried here last of his things
Including the body he was covered with.
Nothing will be taken back from here
Except few confusing beliefs and fond memories.

I looked back
For the last time
As I prepared to leave.
The sky above,
The thundering sea,
The forgetful mortal beings
Hardly gave any convincing reason
To believe-
If I am anything or
What I claim myself to be.

Few more wailing people join
Crowding the place.
The focus of attention changes place.
No one asks and remembers-
Who came,
Who went away.
The identity is reduced to few
Mere ashes,
Few charcoal
Without the names-
All lie scattered.