The Silent Name Poem by ashok jadhav

There was a time it rolled off lips,
warm, alive, echoing through rooms,
a sound that carried breath and being,
but now it lies buried in quiet,
unuttered, fading like a shadow at dusk.
I search for it in old letters,
in photographs that no longer answer,
in the pause between heartbeats,
but the tongue trembles,
and the name slips into the hollows of memory.
Even the air seems to mourn it,
thick with absence,
while grief lingers in the silence
where the syllables once danced.
I carry it alone,
a fragile ember in my chest,
and feel the weight of disappearance,
the loss of voice, of presence, of being,
and the quiet ache of a world
that no longer speaks the name I love.