Bobbi Sinha-Morey

★ ★ ★ ★

POETRY

Image by Janu Prasad

Tears of Surrender

Delicately as rice paper the edge
of my heart crumbles away, knowing
my prayers won’t mend my only
friend who’s so ill she can barely 
walk without a cane. So carefully
I help her to the river so she can be
at peace with the water again, let
the sun glaze upon her skin, wishing
she could float, gently move her limbs,
me watching her since I know how to
swim, thinking I’d do anything just
to hear her spirited laughter, and if 
her tears of surrender ever stained
her cheeks my soul would weep.
I’ve known her for so long – on
the ranch, in the city, and now
the farmlands where she stays for
keeps. Her red dog in the yard,
a bounty of trees and vegetables
she grew with her own hands,
her future dependent on the only
choice of luck while she lives on
prayer and the best medicines
to help keep her alive, hoping her
overseer won’t keep her out of
heaven, for like me she is meek.
It would cut me in half to see her
go; it would dislodge me. I didn’t
have the pureness of her faith,
but in my solitariness I set adrift
jasmine petals on the water, and
watched them lazily spin.