Grief's Zenith Poem by Kuldeep Dongre

I
A wonderful sight,
The stillness of the sea,
Sun's dimming light,
An old couple on a bench,
May be about eighty?
Gazing at the clouds,
Looking around;
Some faces radiant with a smile,
With hands held tight,
The gentle breeze so fresh,
A child's cry of joy,
Birds singing aloud,
Young couples in tight embrace,
A few swimming around,
Some admiring the nature,
Capturing a picture,
Place full of life so bright.

II
The couple looked at each other,
Five decades had flown past,
In joyful togetherness,
Closing in on the sixth;
There were some tough times,
And some to relive,
A few emotional losses,
A few moments of pride,
Birth of their loved one,
Their only one;
One closed chapter,
That needed to be erased,
For the memories,
Can only moist the eyes,
Robbing them of a beautiful sight,
Unfolding in front of them,
A day ends, but there is another.

III
They had a son,
A special one,
In all respects,
Their bundle of joy,
Gone too soon,
Just at his third decade,
Such is the destiny,
They shudder to think,
The moment they lost his company;
Forever it was,
Never in their lifetime,
Shall they see him again,
The memories they do cherish,
But the end bitter they desist,
A gentle tap on one hand,
A gasp, a heavy breadth, a sigh,
Alas, he was the only one.

IV
Life's got to move on,
Says the old man;
How is it that one moves on?
Wife's unmoved firm gaze asks;
Those magic weaving moments,
The smile of their son,
His mischiefs so cute,
The stories he liked,
The poems he recited,
An album full of remembrance,
The journey from a toddler to a boy,
From a boy to a man,
How does one suppress?
Memories like an avalanche,
Numbing the heart, the mind,
It is easier said than done,
Wife cried "I miss my little one".

V
It has been a long time,
May be three decades,
The son slipped into oblivion,
It feels recent though,
Like yesterday, like an hour ago,
An agony so deep,
Deprives them of sleep,
Every now and then,
The nightmares, the shadows,
A masked object,
Snatching her son,
From her embrace,
"Leave him, He's mine, He's mine",
Her imploring cries in vain,
The enormous mental drain,
Scares her up from slumber,
Time and again.

VI
How many more days?
The wait, the suffering,
The pregnant silence within,
The nights spent wide awake,
No sign of scars,
For the wounds aren't healed yet,
Seems they never will;
This connection with your own,
Your own creation,
The bond so intense,
It is with the offspring,
There is no relief from this pain,
No cure to this relentless strain,
This is a daily event, reminiscence,
Just like this day and the one coming next,
Until the sun sets forever may be,
For it is time, it's been a while.

VII
That very day,
They saw a man, a little away,
Young, cheerful, with a broad grin,
With a lovely young toddler,
His protective arms,
Surrounding the child,
Child, secure in his warmth,
Kissed his shoulders,
As he gently tapped its head;
Wife smiled like never before,
As the old man looked on,
She sprang to her feet, he followed,
Doing a few rather fast strides,
Towards the young man,
But he was gone,
Wife said "You never pay attention",
"It's him, our little one".

VIII
That was not the first day,
They saw their little one again,
A mirage it is, says the old man;
But there is some glee,
At least some,
In an otherwise dull routine;
Finding someone,
By the seaside, or in a crowd,
Walk up to them,
Caress the young one,
Talk, laugh, fill their giggles,
In your heart, for it feels light,
Stealing that momentary bliss,
From the clutches of distress,
For you have to live, serve your time,
Wait until that moment arrives,
To unite with him again.