Whither Death

 

Death must be a pleasant respite from life

Otherwise, why would I pray for it demandingly?

It must also be very precious and not an easy fare

Otherwise, why would I write poems on death

And yet not die?

My Guru told me

That after the Atman leaves the body

The gross and the subtle also depart

And the body becomes senseless,

How long must I wait for the Atman to leave my body?

The wait is tortuous, most painful,

The slightest exertion makes me gasp for breath,

My sleep is too often disturbed, by unpleasant thoughts,

The lack of oxygen in the blood makes me hallucinate.

I know, for the dead there is no grief or pain,

Why must I suffer more to get rid of my pain?

Can I prioritise pain?

Can I elect to offload mental pain first?

Who is to decide?

To whom can I say-

Do not test my limit.

I can no longer tolerate pain,

I think I should stop speculating about death

Only then will I die.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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