The Last Untold Story


There is always an untold story in a death

One that trembles within to be told –

To a loved one who stood by in rain and shine


There is always an unuttered word on a frozen lip

A word that would mean all meanings of a lifetime

It floats around the room and yonder on the curtains

Hoping relentlessly to be heard by someone –

Someone who had uttered little words of love when alive


There is always an unheard beat in the still heart

A small beautiful beat that falls

Only on the ears of one who hears the beats of love


There is always a small loosening of the skin on a rigid body

Expectations on the closed pores,

For one long kiss on the forehead

The warmth of which could be carried to the unseen lands


A warmth, an odor, a word and an unheard story

Revolve round and round that house of death

Till the knowing loving heart picks it up

Absorbs every little nuance like a blotting paper on a wet floor

And walks away with that baggage of love for the rest of life


Viji Narayan

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