I watch a lady bug crawl across the ground as my neighbour
Recounts the death of his brother to my mother.
The pain in his voice is too much to bear
And so I focus my eyes on its tiny dotted wings.

The intake of a sharp breath brings back my attention.
My mother’s face is clouded in pain.
They all grew up together.
She yet again this year has to accept the loss of another link to her past.

Death intertwines her fingers around mine.
“Repent, grieve” she whispers.
Everywhere I turn to
It’s her eyes that I see
When I’m home,
When my mind is completely my own,
I watch myself fall
Deeper into things
I tried to get away from.

God needn’t be worshiped so much,
I almost tell my mother.
But I don’t
It would upset her
Instead,
I simply watch the deity in front of me.
The trails of ashes the incense leaves behind,
So very similar to the funeral held at home.

Maybe we write about the dead to remember them better.
To let out the words that we never told them the same words that now tend to choke us.
I whisper “I love you” to the collection of his photographs
like how my mother murmurs her prayers.

A promise to remember, to live better and to love tender.

Gayatri Ramanezhuth

Gayatri is a B.Com graduate pursuing CS in Kochi. She is passionate about writing as it is the easiest way for her to express herself. Embroidery is the only other passion in life. You can find her Instagram @nay_roast