When I was walking along those rows of graves, I felt serene and in peace. The place was far away from the city and my life and was one of finality. There is no anxiety or tension here because there is nothing to await. The silence contrasted by the busy road, with heavy trucks was striking to me. When I looked at each of their graves, young to old, race to race, a lot of questions rose. What happened to them? What were they feeling in the last few moments? Was it painless or painful? Was it expected? What were the emotions of the loved ones? Do those emotions still remain? Do those affections still persist? But, very soon, I realized that whether they were expecting it or not does not matter. I hope they were living the life they dreamed when they vanished or lived their life to the fullest and in the moment. At the end of the day, it does not matter how long you lived, it is how you lived. And I hope that is how other people remember them as too. There were several exhumation notices for the airport and that really killed me because these are people, that lived by our side once. Digging them up for an airport, to me, reduces them and their importance. They should rest there with peace. This just feels wrong to me. Anyways, the fact that despite being a place of turmoil for the living, the place was peaceful is shocking yet understandable to me. There were many people in there, I don’t know how they disappeared, but I felt bad for every single one of them. The trees were sparse in the cluster of death but where there were trees, each one seemed like an island. There is thriving in death, and I hope these people are living in that form and also to meet those whom I never managed to one day, a day that will definitely come.
FORGOTTEN
Serene, solemn silence
A place of peace, filled with grief
Filled with words of love,
Yet full of abandon
Plastic flowers reflect an forgotten affection
Making the eye tear
Untamed grass, full of life on top
Oh, the silent stares of weeds
Keeping those forgotten company
Or is that the accusing rage of the gone
No one will know
The tarmac bridge that joins us
Full of cracks, a disconnect that cannot be overcome
Yellow markers line up, appealing for maintenance
So one can profit from someone dead
Such corrupt mindset, in such bright colors
Trucks cross, disrupting the serenity of silence
Oh life and death collide,
The contrast clear as day and night
Crossing the thriving trees, and the plain fields
Hiding wet puddles of deception when one walks
As I walk away,
Looking at the dark address,
I lie down a bouquet for one of the abandoned
While questioning why, why and why
I hope the angels staring down protect you
from the wind and storm
So that when we meet, you are well
Not the smiling photos but the real you
"Forgotten"- A Writing Journey 