The Birth of Death (Part I)

March 2008

 The Birth of Death (Part 1)

…Every second of everyday something is being born
A second cannot exist without a birth…

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Fallen down, as a mango that snapped from the branch of a tree; we were bruised by watching you land.  The ground welcomed you, reached for you as you reached for it.  The fruit seemed wanting to be eaten.

Passed away, as a season we didn’t want to end; transitioned, as a human must and always did; readjusted, as a light that has become dim.  The darkness of loss brings pain and mourning. 

Hurt pierces stomach lining.

Tears crumble as old deteriorated buildings; cells become bricks no longer with mortar to hold them in place; face no longer with lines of stress, delicately carved as wrinkles representing age.  You were a road slicing through the mountain, your memories the pavement upon which we walk and tread. 

No longer liquid, you have become solid.  Solid as the weight felt in the chest.  Solid as the weight felt in the head.  The head hurts.  The tears advance in uncontrollable, unpredictable, unforgiving moments. 

Bodulal Kasat cropped

Your death is the birth of us telling your story.

Death would be so much easier if you weren’t gone… the tale much better if it continued on.  If we could still laugh with you and touch your hand, feel the skin on a body, before it crumbled as a building, no longer needing occupation. 

We hurt inside.  Hurt probably more than you do at this moment.  We think of you day and night.  You have left us, but why?  So early and late… we are unsure of which one to embrace.

We love too.  Is it late?  Is it too late?

Heart wrenching… with tool box in garage, we remove and loosen the bolt that has shut and closed our hearts.  Grieving loss; it was early, sudden, damn IT!  It was too fucking soon.  It shouldn’t have been you.  We’re angry.  Mad, needing to find a way to breathe… We can feel you still next to us, everywhere we look…

Bodulal-Kasat fire

… death … the gate… birth … the gate … 

All birth begins in death.  The record is repeating, skipping, and playing.  Birth and death are 2 sides of the same coin.  It is flipping and landing.

Death cannot take you away from us; birth cannot bring you to us.  You are not gone.  Death cannot take you away from us.  You are not gone.  We know it must be… somewhere deep inside the root of a tree, you now wait patiently for the chance to become a leaf.  And flowing incessantly we return to you as flowers that we drop upon your grave.  The memories… the memories that will be forgotten cannot take you away, because you have penetrated deep into our DNA.  You have penetrated into the essence of who we are today. 

Birthing-A-Vision-Far

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Written by

HAWAH