Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Will You Remember?

In memory of the survivors of the Holocaust, in particular honour of the 70th Anniversary of the Liberation of the Auschwitz Concentration Camp: a tribute by Kirthi Jayakumar.

Image from here
“Will you remember?” I ask you once. From the corner, I hear the first of your many grunts.
You look into your notebook, your nose touches paper,
You think. When will she stop this foolish caper?
I watch the rain drumming the world outside,
I watch the coming of a storm inside.


You are lost in your notes, as you scribble away,
This isn’t, you think, just like every other day.
I wish you could ignore me, and that it would work
I don’t like the elephant in the room, with its ugly smirk.
“Will you remember?” I ask you, twice.
I know, you’d rather, just disappear in a trice.

You are capturing all those times inside your mind,
Rummaging through every memory you can find.
I want to save every moment we had,
The good, ugly, and especially the bad.
You choose, instead, to preserve only the good
Knowing you, I know that’s all you would.

I wonder what this space will feel like, after
Many shades smart, lesser by someone dafter?
“Will you remember?” I ask you. Third.
I don’t even know now, if you have heard.
You struggle against the ocean building in your heart
You have no idea, how much I hate to part.

I think to myself, that we will be together
I see my soul, to yours, bound in a tight tether
You smuggle every peaceful moment of silence
And yet, even inside those, lies a turbulent violence
I want to ask and tell you so many things
I can only hope you hear, when my soul sings.

“Will you remember?” I ask you, last.
This will be the last of these four moments, past.
You get up, turn around, and walk towards me
And in your eyes, the whole truth, I can see.
I feel my already full heart filling to the brim,
The lights around me, they grow dim.

You hold me tight in the knot of your embrace
You see tears in your eyes, streaming down my face.
I see your heart, thrumming and pounding, swiftly aflutter
I open my ears wide, to hear the last of your stutter.
“I will never forget,” you tell me, “Never, ever.”
And that is when, peacefully, I close my eyes, forever.

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