The soul,
The real ‘me’ –the ‘I,’
You sometimes catch capering in the eye,
Never dies–
It just flies
Its vessel
When conditions are insufferable,
And no other options are available.
The family grieves; death is tough.
Does the soul yearn its lost love?
Can it remember its way back?
Alas, it is in another realm,
Populated by other women, other men.
It learns to thrive among them,
And slowly its attachments die away
And fade in the rigmarole of common day.
Nandita Author 