Dove-grey Bones

Lift the hip high – higher still
it’s fine now –  
warmth of urine, muscles relax on your face
even as shame of helplessness surface,
humiliation as the body falls apart. Mind racing
at the years ahead of dependency:
washroom appears miles away,
the door a few more miles
and the world outside never.
You close your eyes
a shriveled flower wrapping up
holding the petals from falling:
for how long
for how long ?    

(The title of this poem is taken from here –

‘These dove-grey bones are the gourds 
 thrown away in the autumnal season. 
 What pleasure is there in looking at them?’
 — Dhammapada, Wisdom Of The Buddha
)

POW

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6 thoughts on “Dove-grey Bones

  1. Such sadness and such tender care expressed here, Uma. Accepting the loss of one’s dignity must be the hardest of trials.

  2. gourds in autumn–a lovely thought
    It is painful to be with person at the end. One of my mother-in-law’s last lucid expressions was to ask if it would be all right to let go of life.

  3. This is very sad, Uma. I think we all will face this some time if we have not already. I am so sorry about this difficult time for you right now.

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