Awakening of the dead

And when you’re gone,

From your chair, from the stairs and your lawn.

When you’re no longer a presence of your name,

Putting a facade and owing your fame.

When your identity is ash from a fire,

Its burned what you yearned and you no longer long to desire.

What you were known for and known as is buried under the ground,

The rest of your honour and your ego in the corner that you carried is drowned.

Your memory of what you see things as is washed away at the shore,

Your fears, cried tears and remembered souvenirs become too heavy to pull ashore.

And you open your eyes for the very first time to imprint your foot into the sand,

With a sensation you realise what the skies and the land were trying to make you understand.

You find your burnt ashes in the wind, on the grass and the stones beside the river.

You feel the breeze, the sprigs on your knees and your bones know what the rose holds within her,

That’s when you feel infinite and in rhythm with the sand, and the sea and the branch of the tree.

‘You’ died and what woke up was already a waterfall, a beautiful sky and the cocoon on the tree.

@manya_nautiyal

- Mauli Nautiyal