DEATH Poem: “ Some journeys end where they once began.”, by Fiza Amir

I don’t know why they have brought me here?
This place seems similar, but what’s this strange machine
Making active yet grieving sound?
Why my eyes are losing will to stay open?

I still remember I just opened eyes for the first time a while ago,
I was amazed and scared at the same time,
I was crying while those strange people were smiling while looking at me.
Now I don’t see those faces anywhere,
Isn’t it strange that this time I’m somewhat smiling,
And some strange yet these people who are dear to me are crying?

I still remember running carefreely in those wheat fields,
I still remember how my mother used to tie my hair,
I still remember how my eyes first met my husband’s eyes,
I still remember sitting moon with him for the first time,
I still remember holding those little cute hands of my own blood,
I still remember the excitement I had when he took his first step.

I still remember how my hair turned white,
And I put Hina to dye them red.
I still remember the last meeting with my husband,
Those wrinkled old hands holding mine,
The grip might have been weak, but not the warmth,
The warmth of so many years of joy, happiness, and sorrow.

I still remember when those eyes full of love
Chose to shut permanently and take a part of me with them.
I still remember how a part of me stayed empty after that,
I still remember how I used to fill that void with my loneliness.

I still remember the first night sitting moon without him,
But now they say that I’ve lost sane conscious state of mind.
I don’t think so?
I still remember the smell of rain,
When I was scared of it, and my father held my hand,
And we moved slowly in the rain.
There was faith in my steps, with fear in my heart.

This is the same place,
But this time I might have to go—
Go somewhere I don’t know.
But yes, maybe it’s the same place from where I came.
What will I take with me? Nothing.
I came with nothing in my tiny little hands,
And now I’ve to depart with nothing in my old wrinkled hands.
Perhaps when I came, I brought some sort of happiness,
Now I’ve to leave behind some sort of sorrowness—
Just like Euphrates flowed through so many places,
Carrying a mixture of told, untold, bitter, and sweet memories.