Beyond Bodies
She sees her husband with the eyes of desire,
their marital engagement of half a century, their inseparability
suddenly put to test, when his body is all set to retire.
His hair runs about his head like dark ocean waves;
greying like frothy water, receding from his forehead and temples,
his weathered, thin frame like fence staves.
His skin—soft and supple like that of a newborn child;
now coarse, wrinkled having dewlaps, with the varied seasons of joy and sufferings,
the once glaze and shine, facing the brutality of time—is often reviled.
His exquisite form of bright eyes dances with ecstasy;
with lived wisdom and maturity, they have retreated, concealed in dark caves;
their fading brightness—on a cadaverous face—resembling a falling star is their trivial peccancy.
His lips are soft for a smooth kissable pout;
at the advent of life’s sundown, they seem chapped and desiccated,
but they speak of knowledge and understanding, without any doubt.
His perfect figure of a movie star is every woman’s dream;
a fatigued, hunched body now holding onto a stick,
like rocks transferred into pebbles in life’s stream.
She hears a hoarse male voice calling out her name,
a mellifluous tone to her ears—
never-ending softness that has always remained the same.
His wearied body moves with a staff toward her,
a once-energetic self, shouldering the good–bad times, now burdened with decadence,
her eyes moisten with tears, as youth—the genial epoch of life—seems to blur.
Formerly like a lion flexing his muscles, his weakened bones now tremble,
his biceps—once assured of strength and security—have dissolved, no longer curl,
his once-confident steps presently measured with hesitation, as his feet wobble.
From the dark caves of his eyes soaked with tenderness and affection,
he sends a signal of togetherness that is hard to ignore;
his heart exists—connected, intact even in its imperfect, fragmentary state, still full of compassion.
She sees her own reflection in the mirror of her mind,
her over-ripened form—color darkened, flavor bland, odor distasteful,
body plump, texture coarse with dark–grey hair—leaving her years behind.
What’re bodies—facing an audio–visual–sensorial montage of occurrences, mortals bound by time;
it’s about the accumulation of warm feelings of love and care that their souls enrich,
which they are experiencing now and have enjoyed in their prime.
Her winding, clouded mind now sees with ever greater clarity—
bodies endure and survive till their pre-defined hour, but their souls last forever,
where their indissoluble connection will live on—her pain finds solace in the eternal verity.
Author: Sreelekha Chatterjeee
Photo: Jennifer Marquez on Unsplash
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