Anna Sujatha Mathai  

No, my name will not  
on these stones and 
that I loved so much,
or on this grass filled   
        with wild flowers
where I lay, mad with 
all one summer’s day.
But the same wind
that blew leaves so 
after the summer rain,
will touch these stones,
that earth.
That same rain in 
               which I ran
with my loved one, – 
       laughing, happy,
will gently fall upon this 
Voices of playing children that I hear 
will still be heard.
But they’ll be other 
    children shouting,
    other lovers listening.
These stars, that moon
in whose aching, lonely  
                         light I lay,
thinking of the lost love 
who’d never come 
will shine each night
upon my earth –
on those who love, and those who grieve 
and that harsh, 
        scorching sun
which finally burned to ash
the fierce element of     
                     my heart,
That sun –
     will continue to burn.

First published in Life on my side of the street, published by Sahitya Akademi, 2005.

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