Alive

This poem is for a widow, who still waits for a sudden knock on the door.

Yesterday

I saw a woman

walking gently,

each step placed

with care

on the floor.

I asked her

, are you well ‘Purê?’

A sour smile,

covered her face

bitter tears

burnt her cheeks

The flame in her heart

heated her body

“20 years ago

a laughing dêw

buried my husband

and child

under this very ground.

And now

each step I take

feels like

putting my feet

on their body

alive.

Sarwa A       January 2016