Covidescence, OR: I’m So Sorry
©May 28th, 2020
By Vijaya Sundaram
I’m so sorry your:
Mother died
Father died
Aunt died
Uncle died
Sister died
Brother died
Cousin died
Niece died
Nephew died
Grandfather died
Grandmother died
Grandson died
Grand-daughter died
Husband died
Wife died
Lover died
Employee died
Co-worker died
Employer died
Neighbor died
Teacher died
Student died
Friend died.
I’m so sorry their stories
Are all you have left,
And perhaps their smile,
Lingering Cheshire-cat-like
Pulls gently at your own lips,
As you remember.
I’m so sorry that you know
And I know, and we all know,
That they died in vain,
That they could have lived,
That they had miles left to go
Before going ungently into that night
That was not good at all.
I’m so sorry you were left
With words still unsaid,
With apologies still unstated,
With letters still unanswered,
With songs still unsung.
And now, you’re left
With their hospital bills,
And perhaps, a nice note
From a nurse who tended them,
Full of kindness that brims
From eyes behind protective glasses,
And mouths whose kindness
Is shielded by overused masks,
Teeming with unseen danger.
That Aunt who grew up in southern Italy,
Sunny-faced amidst olive groves and cypress,
That Brother who rode his bicycle
Pell-mell through Mumbai’s tightly-woven streets
Zipping in and out of cars, lightning-jagged,
That former Beloved whose gaze held you
Like sunlit pools where you drowned once –
All gone, gone like a mist from a lake
Like a dream dissolving upon waking.
Gone, all gone, like the words of a song
You’ll remember for a long while,
But which will, like songs do,
Fade into memory, while you fret
And pinch yourself to keep
Everything alive in your mind, for else
All will be betrayed, and for what?
I’m so sorry that words
Will never be enough.
I’m so sorry that the rage
And powerlessness burning
Incandescent and lightning-bright
Within you will also die,
Because how can one sustain
Such white-hot anguish?
And cool down we must,
Whether we wish it, or no,
Cool we must, for heat will kill.
Come to this stream, here, under
The spreading oak and willow,
Where shadows dance and light sparkles.
Drink deep, close your eyes, lie down
Here, on this mossy bank, sleep.
Now, awake. A new hour awaits,
And you will struggle on,
For what else can you do?
For, we have unfinished business,
You and I. We haven’t met,
Not yet. There is much to discuss,
Notes to compare, learning to do,
Songs to sing, histories to write,
Equations to solve, bridges to build,
Wrongs to right, rights to fight for.
There is life left to live.
Will you live it with me?
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