​Death, unknown

yes, yes, I know we come alone go alone but when we come may it be to the sounds of love

and arms roped in an embrace and when we go, and when we go may there be at least one

person next to us, the one who has loved us for an instant even, or someone who has maybe

one lonely night prodded the moon and broken a bit off for you


no one should have to die alone


but you did, and at that instant, what was happening outside? Were there birds in flight, those

tropical ones that disappear, a stroke of colour in a flash or did a half moon rise or did bats

speak to each other in sonic whispers or did a woman murmur in her lover’s ears not now not



you didn’t have to die alone


and what about the others who knew you, the husband, the friend, the lover, lover turned

friend or friend turned lover, where was he? where was anyone? the mother the father the

sisters who are meant to love, the brothers who are meant to protect, the aunts, the uncles

where were they in their worlds not knowing, not knowing, you were slipping away


you cold and alone


and so we think, we wonder asunder, how did it come to this

did you call the moment or did the moment call you

illicit whispers from worlds away cracking the earth into two?



Read The Healing in The Bombay Review