Once Poem by Anita Sehgal

Once my house was full of people
Both young and old …
of diverse opinions and myriad temperaments.
Voices and sounds echoed all around,
Doors banged and shut, activity all around…
Where is my corner of quiet, I wondered?

Once my house was full of guests,
Glasses clinked, tables over laden..
Laughter rang out …
Merry stories exchanged and news dissected,
Each sticking vociferously to his point of view, egos clashed.
Why cannot we listen more and talk less, I wondered?

Once my house was full of children
Each child in a world of his own….
Growing up years and its challenges..
Seeking to balance, the righteousness of the elders and the sensitivity of the children..
How does one bridge the gap.. without treading on toes.. I wondered?

Once the walls reverberated with the joys of the coming festivals
Every occasion and season, a reason for celebration.

Amidst all this.. hustle…
Life's ups and downs..
offered its own variety..

All this was then … and now..
Not a sound echoes.
The bell hardly rings,
No callers to disturb my reverie.
Children moved out..
Now an empty nest.
Relatives have no time,
Friends all gone,
The kitchen fires hardly burn.
The echoless, cold walls and
the now musty furniture, so carefully gathered once, give company.
Festivals come and go.
Summer heat is unbearable
Winter chill eats into my bones
Monsoon is wet and slushy
Spring no longer blooms.
Life now spent on my rocking chair, whose creaking and squeaking
is a lullaby…
The walking stick, the only support of my tottering bones…
Occasionally, I get up to clear the dust of old photographs on the walls,
of smiling family and friends-events and occasions.
I stare at them and reminisce of the past and pull it into my present.
All gone but the memories glow like embers in the dark winter evenings.
I am waiting … waiting for what I do not want to acknowledge.

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