Looking back

That little girl,
she keeps crying.
I wish to console her.
But then, she is myself, I.
This business of Why is a difficult thing.
Ramana says, just dump everything. You may not shift through garbage.
But there is that stubborn thing, called stench.
It sticks.
I would be free.
To stop that crying,
that background wail. Till then,
when some tear-drop swells someplace inside,
I feel it roll and swell.
Helpless, watch it as it becomes a wave.