Gratitude

 

Gratitude

The quivering fingers let the cigarette go.

Downwards, the fire faced stick of death

is falling before earth consumes its evil.

He could have been flying too. The erosions

 of time, concern and space might be rushing behind

his ears, his existence, his life. He could have

taken a leap out of the bridge of presents

to put a full stop in his course. Adieu.

 

She captures him before anything happens.

The cursed old homeless woman, erratic, sad;

madness has brushed her temple. The dark dirt beneath

her nails is intense like earth.

                                                   “Can you gift your life?”

She asks. Close eyes, my boy. You can feel like dead

still life tastes better in any case. Tear

rivers down his eyes. He knows it is gratitude

to the nameless mad woman, the earth, the verve. Life.

Reviews

[Helena]

Gratitude seeped in every carefully placed word. Wonderful poem! I enjoyed this so much Poddar.

~ Helena ~

[Brandy Garrett]

A quite interesting piece. Your selection of both words and idea worked well together. Thank you for sharing this great poem.

[SN Parodi]

Beautiful...

[alternative_be]

There is a thin line between life and death, an eternal connection. In the beginning of your poem they still seem like opposites of each other. You have the talent to make the natural connection many of us tend to forget.

[1809 Black Plague Decem..]

sounds like an olden movie, she is almost begging him to feel thankfulness, great work, mishel xo

[Ankhesen Mié]

Deep, intense, and provoking. My dear, where do you get your ideas? Are they just musings?

[Bhavya Kaushik]

"Can you gift your life?" - Wow! Very powerful line, You have described this entire scene so perfectly in your poetry.
I loved the visualization and tempo of this one!
Great write.