Tag: poetry

On the morning of the last day,
he woke up and saw death
blocking the doorway.
They wrestled each other
to the bedroom floor,
where my frail, fearless grandfather
was eventually defeated,
in patch of sunlight
on the marble.

He left in a hurry, my grandpa,
taking nothing with him
and leaving behind no last words.
He had just enough breath left
to say goodbye
but no one was there.
We thought
that death would come
in the night,
like all the thieves do,
but death crawled in
in the morning
and we weren’t there.

In my grandmother’s house,
old and dark and dusty,
I would walk
the long corridor
with my eyes closed,
running my fingers
softly along the rough
wallpaper, like a needle
on a vinyl record,
and i swear to you
I could hear the sound
of my mother,
my aunts and uncles,
laughing as they played,
each in their own childhood,
before the dust came in
and the darkness settled
on the furniture.

If this
finds you,
I’m just writing
to say that my closet
is haunted
by the smell
of jasmines
hanging onto
the summer dresses
you left behind,
and that I’m throwing
them all out.

that night
on the rooftop
we stood
watching the eclipse

the darkness
growing darker
wrapped its arms
around us
as your fingers
found mine
and held onto them

your eyes
brighter than the stars
hanging above us
reassured me
that the moon
was coming back