"Dad, we're getting ready to close the casket."
"Did you want to take a last look?"
"Dad, we're carving out forty-nine near and dear years of your life. Would a last look help you?"
Now, her rage is as distant as the day she was born.
Now, her face is as peaceful as her first night home.
No, that was not a few hours away.
No, she was never here to stay.
Baby cots do not have lids;
you already know,
dreams do have ends.
And yes, rage can rest...
eternally,
even if your heart never will...
Note: For Nandi whom I met once in her short lifetime, but impressed me for the rest of mine.
