Death On The Hillside Poem by Madathil Rajendran Nair
Death On The Hillside
She staggered in the middle of her friends,
sobbing - a steaming kettle in wraps,
shivering, shaking;
someone close to her had just passed away.
There already was a milling crowd
at the house on the hillside
to which a dirt road unwillingly snaked.
A coffin had just been carried
into that house;
a man held fuming frankincense
on her way, as did the sliding clouds
up the looming hills.
Her face was covered,
but her sobs said her heart's tear.
Was it a husband, brother or father
who left her forlorn
that April afternoon
when a crazy summer shower
had just scattered puddles
on the winding roads
of that cosy hill-resort
where vehicles screeched
and splashed mud on the unwary.
A kingfisher watched the scene
from an overhead line
unable to sing.
Perhaps, a sob choked
its vocal strings.
Rain clouds still wept on the peaks,
unseen birds trilled
in the thick of the woods
strains of melancholy
turning the dripping afternoon
a throbbing pang
in a hill-town of touristic unconcern
She would soon enter that house
drain herself out in a cloud-burst
of heart-break on a lifeless cadaver,
dressed up, perfumed, for its last trip.
Who is it? A brother, husband, father?
The town has no time to ponder;
the sinking sun might peep through the clouds
and go down his moribund way
as does the visitor depart at the end of his stay
Each one has to die, each day must fade;
life is that way, we like it or not;
pray the poor thing learns that fast.
Life is just a passing show and the days we lived are the gains that we lose at the end of the road. A scintillating poem on morbid death.
Profound n powerful. Death is a sore reality. It's the ultimate destination of human journey. Your descriptive abilities are at their best. A great descriptive n narrative write, reflective of your keen observation and deep insight. A huge 10.
A kingfisher watched the scene from an overhead line unable to sing. Perhaps, a sob choked its vocal strings. Rain clouds still wept on the peaks, unseen birds trilled in the thick of the woods strains of melancholy turning the dripping after a throbbing pang- - - - - - A poignant and powerful write .- -Death is the ultimate reality - - -Every body has to die one day. Realization of this fact makes us humble.
Each one has to die, each day must fade; life is that way, we like it or not; ...................................... What a way to conclude this poem! How realistically and poignantly you have presented the scene! The pathetic spectacle tugs at the heart strings, though the aggrieved is a total stranger to you and me. You felt it deep and with the same intensity we are able to feel it! That's the power of a great write! Top marks!
As usual very good nair. Life is like that. Keep writing. ...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 11:25:49 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A poignant poem written with sensitivity. The lugubrious effect you created involving the elements around is also commendable. innu njaan nale nee
Thank you, Sir, for your kind words.