last rites

honey, don't cry while collecting

ashes of my last rites please, 

but smile at the cluttered clay

moulded by your purified hands, 

my bones will carry the colours

of peace even under holy fires, 

honey, cherish the moment of my

smile when you find my little

raised canine and inclined incisor, 

while looking at my nails, please

remember my small- sized hands

hardly covering half of your hand, 

you won't find my heart beating 

don't get scared looking at those

hollow, abandoned ribs please,

my eyes, my nose, my ears, 

my skins, my lips, my thighs,

you will never caress them again, 

honey, i know you will look at 

my feet which once you could 

find even in crowd of hundreds, 

i know you will try to touch me all

i know you will try not to sob on me

i know you will try to imagine how

i would have looked like alive, 

but honey please don't cry

don't cry while collecting me

i would be in the grey ashes, 

i would shatter once again

when you will come close to me,

i would raise my sensations 

when you will touch my burnt

eyes, lips, skins, nose and thighs, 

i would shed my tear when

you'll look at the bones of my feet, 

honey, i would smile when

you will once again mould

me by your purified hands, 

and listen when you will

exit the threshold of cremation

ground, it will rain, it will rain, 

honey, i will rinse you in the rain

the way i did when we first met. 

- chetna 🌻