Poetry: To A Fellow Wayfarer
Do not fall into a dirge
When your tongue begins to hold these memories
Memories of how the roads we plied became home in our eyes
And how we found love in tree branches
Along our path and in the art of our sojourn
How we became dusty lanes for children
Who were running after their childhood dreams
Before they loosed tracks of friends who couldn't make it back home
On this side of the world
You'll see humans in diverse colours
- boys, sipping death in little quantities, they said it's the tradition of survivors
- girls, picking their tears, wearing them as beautiful but faint smiles
- men, walking naked on tarred roads, in search for healing
-women, whose beauty is a room full of scars and empty glories
Do not cry for those you met on this path
Who touched your soul and walked away
Those who wrap your mother's voice in their smiles
Reminding you of times when she had sleepless night, to sing you to sleep
Times when your father was the only song on your lips
How he stood to make you a woman- a home where happiness could be bought for free
Do not cry for times you had with strangers who became brothers overnight
And for girls who became sisters in the twinkling of an eye
For people whose words are like images on the wall of your heart
Images of how the world was, before the coming of goodbyes
Images of how it feels to be imperfect, but accepted
Soon, this journey would be over
But remember to sing her songs wherever you go
Remember how roads could be homes too
And how strangers could become angels
Remember to reminiscence every bit of those times, they may be your only chance to be happy
Remember to embrace life, fate and time, while it last
You may never have them again
Tomorrow might meet you, somewhere in a cemetery
'Remember to live before you die
It's the only way to die before living' - the mystery behind the life of a sojourner