A touch away

Gerald Chandler

When the telephone rang last night I thought it strange, since no one ever calls at that time. Her older sister, with that tone of voice that you just know has to be something very bad. And it was. Her brother, fighting a losing battle with brain and pancreatic cancer, had just been declared “terminal”, with perhaps two months to live. The Medicine Men had stopped all efforts except for pain relief, and had given up. She was not completely shocked by this news, having been aware of his earlier condition. Facing the reality of it is another matter. They had never been really close, and time and distance had caused them to drift apart even more for these past years. Hidden behind the tear streaked, sham brave face were the thousand panicky, despairing questions and regrets we all deal with in times like this. "Why?" “What to do now?” “Call, despite feeling hypocritical, and perhaps face rejection?” “Why didn’t I get to know him better?” “Write a letter? “Pretend I don’t know?” “Cry?” “Rage at the unfairness of it all?” “Blame and denounce God?” So many conflicting ideas and emotions, all demanding resolution, explanation, reason. And the personal fear, never admitted or acknowledged, too primal, too terrible to contemplate, now all too real.

The only question now is when; “What" has been answered, for him. Despite our denials and pretensions to the contrary, Death smiles, knowing He’s never more than a touch away from any of us...

This is a short writing I genuinely liked. Gerald Chandler has been kind enough to lend me this piece. He is from Arizona, USA. His could be followed in

http://coyoteprime-runningcauseicantfly.blogspot.com/

Sunflower

Tilak K C


I looked at the big golden sun flower. She opened her eyes with the golden sun in the dawn. She admired him in hot and humid afternoons. She waved him farewell as he sank down the horizons in the evening. In the night, she cried in pain. She cried in pain and anguish of separation. She cried for the golden morning, the hot and humid afternoons and lonely evenings. Her tears shone as the silver pearls of dew in the morning sun.

I was amused by all of this.

“Oh flower, why are you crying? “ I asked.

“Oh boy, I am crying because I can not bear the pain of separation from my beloved,” She replied.

“Oh dear flower, you cry for something you shall never achieve. You cry for that morning start that shall never be yours.” I continued. “You can not be close to him. You will vanish in the warmth of him. Your soft petals would be vanquished in that scorching heat.”

She keenly gazed at me. Then with a deep sigh it replied.

“My dear boy, I love him and the pain of that love is sweeter than thousand honeys. The pain of that separation is dearer tome than the thousands of life without it. I know I will never be with him. He is a burning ball that flies in the depth of skies. And I roam the green earth. Yet the warmth of his morning love upon my face is all I want from him. The scorching afternoons are dearer to me than the cushion of eternal luxury. He loves me. And that is sufficient for me to want him eternally. This love and separation have all the happiness I want.”

I was amused by the reply.

“One day I shall be in his arms. And I shall perish in his scorching heat. That will be the final glory. I shall have lived my life to the fullest. Then I shall die in love and pride.”

Each and every word was sinking in me. I now envied her devotion.

Moments

The silver pearls of morning dew,

The yawning world so fresh and new,

This isn’t just a day, my friend,

It’s the heaven in the backyard lane.

A drop, a pitter and then a patter,

Water is bouncing on my shutter,

This isn’t just rain, my friend,

It’s the life flowing through the plains.

A smile, a tease and a wink flashing,

A blush, a shake and a swift glancing,

It isn’t just a girl, my dear,

It’s the angel walking by near.

A bug, a wasp and a bee hovering around,

Velvet layers of beauty that surround,

It isn’t just a bloom, my friend,

It’s the love uttered in plain.

A push, a nudge and a pull of the hair,

Fighting and slapping is all I care,

But, it’s not a war, my dear friend,

It’s my buddy in his fidgeting years.

A flick, a spark and then a light,

The darkness is swaying in fright,

It’s not just a candle, my friend,

It’s the hope guiding the men.

Tilak K C

Alone

Amidst the smiling companions
Among the laughing friends
With the cherishing family
I smile alone
I laugh alone
I cherish alone
And,
I live alone


Tilak KC

Alone

Amidst the smiling companions
Among the laughing friends
With the cherishing family
I smile alone
I laugh alone
I cherish alone
And,
I live alone

Tilak K C