An Afternoon Chat in His Office
We tackled the ‘Concept of Death’
while Death squatted on his shoulders,
played with what was left of his hair,
and gazed at me as a likely prospect.
Dark clouds would pass, behind him
when Death would block out the sun,
and still we spoke of sunrise.
I was preaching
the Rules of Thumb
for the game of ‘going’
and all the while,
I was fingerless.....
‘Rage, Rage, against the dying of the light’
When on the way home, their home,
no lighted windows looked out,
of the black night.
I had thought
God would make an exception
And he had thought so too
or tried to...
leafing through my poetry, wondering
if he would be the next elegy.
I was pleading that he hang on
when all I wanted to do,
was let go
finding reason in Leena’s face
and three curious daughters
when Reason had set, with the light
had gone
‘gentle into that good night’
In memory of Dr. Bashir.
