Here I hear, now and then
thumping and dancing of ghosts
of the war field soldiers
who died of stress and fear
running around unseen fires
of up till unfulfilled desires
and gross professional dissatisfaction.
No one keeps record
of such lost bodies, desolate
by low wrung spirits.
They might be sucking
or simply breathing them out
their unwanted presence.
They were apprehensive of
whatever their life and living
was up to in the world of their despise,
undecided if to accept or reject
these, one of flesh and blood
stinking of underpaid, unattended
rawness and of gut and of power.
They have left upon me a question
myself asking: How am I qualified
to stand the ground I hold,
right here, right now?
Will I ever get any peace?
Will I ever get some rest?
Ever in peace?
[In memory of Tapash Gomes a dear friend, a lovable soul, a ‘Maner Manush’ as they
called him who is no more. Tapash da succumbed to COVID19. Yesterday, the 27th of
July 2020, he moved on higher to be “Bhagabaner Manush.”]
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