She lay wrapped in love.
Insides of her coffin
lined with love-notes;
Notes that they had exchanged,
Through many years
of their conjugal life.
Love had come like a whirlwind;
Sweeping her off the feet.
Through the marriage
and years after that
life had been
Moments of sheer bliss.
Then one day it all ended,
As suddenly as it had begun.
They were found in pools of blood
Lying dead under the setting sun.
The note, they found in her pocket,
Accusations, confessions and wishes
all rolled in one.
His betrayal, she said,
had come as a shock
and drove her raging mad.
The dagger, she had thrust into him,
Repeatedly, till his heart had stopped.
Then she had killed her own self,
Laying down on his bloodied chest.
Even in death she had wanted
to be immersed in his love’s passion.
“Stick the love notes inside my coffin,”
Is what her dying note had instructed.
“Death is not the end of all
and as my soul from body detaches,
Let it forget all harshness
and find a purge,
In love’s multi-hued transcriptions.
Copyright @ Goutam Dutta