Just another 21 grams.
Of a certain intriguing stranger name,
In spending seconds, minutes, on deciphering.
Of a resultant questioning, 21 grams?
I was told, a human body loses 21 grams,
At the moment of death.
What was it that we lost?
The bones, the flesh, the blood,
Still uptight there, isn't it?
Memories, thoughts, emotions?
Probably, just the breath, says the companion.
Let's romanticize, let's say, it is hope.
This 21 grams. Of hope.
For a different place, a different time, a different comfort. A final loss, perhaps?
Is it death in itself? Like some form of combustion?
What does happen to this 21 grams?
Maybe not insignificant?
Like the fallen leaf, the bruised statue, the unsaid thank you?
But you know, isn't it?
How important these are to the cognitive world of writers?
So, is this 21 grams.
To engulf me this evening.
An evening belonging to the first day of December!
© Deekshita Srinivas
21:54
Bangalore
( moments, or, should I say, 21 grams away from sending this to the person who told me about it.)
Of a certain intriguing stranger name,
In spending seconds, minutes, on deciphering.
Of a resultant questioning, 21 grams?
I was told, a human body loses 21 grams,
At the moment of death.
What was it that we lost?
The bones, the flesh, the blood,
Still uptight there, isn't it?
Memories, thoughts, emotions?
Probably, just the breath, says the companion.
Let's romanticize, let's say, it is hope.
This 21 grams. Of hope.
For a different place, a different time, a different comfort. A final loss, perhaps?
Is it death in itself? Like some form of combustion?
What does happen to this 21 grams?
Maybe not insignificant?
Like the fallen leaf, the bruised statue, the unsaid thank you?
But you know, isn't it?
How important these are to the cognitive world of writers?
So, is this 21 grams.
To engulf me this evening.
An evening belonging to the first day of December!
© Deekshita Srinivas
21:54
Bangalore
( moments, or, should I say, 21 grams away from sending this to the person who told me about it.)