Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Matrix (Ten Haiku: Upon Seeing the Daughter of My Friend Who Died)

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Matrix

(Upon Seeing the Daughter of My Friend Who Died)

©June 13th, 2014

By Vijaya Sundaram

Child, whose fulcrum’s gone–

Leaves fall to earth, trees can die.

~ Summer rainshine weeps.

 

Yet, she plays and smiles

A child with no words for grief

Fish can swim to air.

 

And you, the father,

Broken, full of promises,

Can you face this child?

 

Not for me to speak?

Winds blow through the neighborhood

Speak of my friend’s grave.

 

For shame, you father!

Whose child dances on tightropes —

Honor her mother!

 

My friend, who died last year

Welcomed death, for cancer’s hell.

Her child breathes her breath.

 

Remember her child!

Her bones and her blood are hers

Spare love, spare your breath!

 

You will be your judge

And there will be reckoning –

Kneel, when your light fades.

 

Yes, you lost her too

To each, his loss, to each, hers –

Honor, cherish, weep!

 

And child, remember.

Reflections hold memories –

These make matrices.

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NOTE:  The root meaning of matrix is “mother” or “womb.”