Strangers And Pyres Poem by Kiran Devarajan

Those shivering hands needed warmth.
Was I rude when I showed him the pyre? ?
After all, the sparkly forms drawn by the fire
Were but fuelled by memories, warm and soothing.

I could see the gloom in his face.
He might have been a soldier himself.
But I cared not about his misty eyes..or his past, misty still.
For me, he was the stranger who sought the fire…its warmth! !

Friends I've had all my life, enemies, even more.
But all were strangers once..
For the love of my country, I took the crimson road..
And in that journey, I lost the power to weep! !

Now I've become the guardian of the pyre,
Where forever my comrades retire!
I've no regrets still..I made a choice..
And in life, your choices sketch your legacies..

"No need to thank me my friend.", I said
"We are all but the same dilapidated tools..
I lit the pyre and you shall quench it.
I'm going homeward now, Oh lonely soul! ! "

"Lots more pyres I've to light…
And lots of strangers to meet! ! ! "