I traveled to my hometown.

The house was cleaned after he left 
Buckets of of water let out 
Swirling with dirt and soil 
A stick broom repeatedly swushed 
Against the flooded floor 
A bucket left at the gate 
So that the guests may wash their feet 
And as they leave, leave the essence 
Of the great old house 
Stuck on their clothes and their hair 
Clinging to the back of their necks and stuck under their sandles 
Behind.

The old clothes collected in a pile 
To be set aside like the memories soon would be 
Even the leftover piece 
Of an old biddi 
Struck on the wall 
The wall that was carefully built 
Brick by Brick 
To conceal the new cave in 
There now was 
Made by the loss of that person

I saw him as he left the house 
His eyes seemed to look ahead 
I found that I could only shed 
A few tears of farewell 
I was late 
To my grandfather’s funeral

Biddi: Cigarette

R.S.

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