Delhi. A Funeral Pyre.
Powerful and needed words shared.
Delhi. A Funeral Pyre.
by her child with no name.
And as I sit here today, these countless waves away,
my Delhi, into whose mad, warm, gritty, welcoming arms I fell on that early autumn day,
is welcoming no more.
And as I sit here today with relief, that from her I am so far torn apart,
my Delhi, whose diyas of light that once lit up my heart,
is a funeral pyre.
And as I sit here today, just another child of hers with no name,
I breathe,
I can breathe.
And even as my mother chokes, the stench of relief that I feel,
of being from her so very far,
this vagabond child of hers with no name,
breathes with relief,
to his eternal, asphyxiating shame.
This is such a hauntingly beautiful and heartbreaking piece. It’s incredibly moving in the all too real story it conveys.
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so beautifully written and so terribly sad. thank you for sharing this
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I agree dear Beth. A amazing writer.
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Thank you ever so much, my dear friend, for sharing my piece. Stay well, stay safe, and all the warmest wishes to you and our wonderful WordPress family, and beyond into our world so pained at the moment
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You are welcome Afzal.
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Strength, my brother!
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