The first rain on your final resting place
falls gently in the early hours
Not a pounding downpour but soft and light
as if conscious of your fragility.
It's been two weeks that we wake up
with the first conscious thought you're gone
We knew you were ailing and aging
but hoped somehow you'd be around a little longer.
Now you've fallen silent, you who always
loved company and talking.
I remember that journey years ago
in a little Ambassador enroute for Mumbai
and Mother's cancer treatment. She was quiet and pensive
but you chattered all the way and Mother told me later
how grateful she was for your loquacity, it kept her
awake and away from dismal thoughts.
The circle keeps breaking again and again and again
but someday perhaps it will be mended as we
all meet again on the other side.
