O Lord, why you curse me,
And struck me with
The power to recall, and to re-collect?
What is happening to me?
I used to love a room full of people.
Family, children, women.
Now I am diving towards solitude.
Further into strangeness.
Face hurting from crying.
Grief, clearing the muddled head.
Amma, what is happening to me?
“A boy with two wives,” you needled me once,
Seeing me on the phone with one, and
Then with the other.
Now, having lived ten times over,
I am a man with two memories.
Tired of this prison.
One moment it feels,
That it is not really a matter of
Life or Death.
And sure, I can live without you,
That my brightening love for life will go on.
The next moment I relive,
The misty far away widening,
And my heart jumps to my throat,
My feet feel like floating,
No, I don’t want that resolute self-sufficiency.
The FACT of life is emptiness,
The REASON to live is your love.
This “live for others,”
This “see how rich life is…!”
This “find something interesting,”
How can all this be enough to go on?
So with lowered head,
I give to you,
My last missive:
The best that I wish for you and me,
That I will for you and me,
That I seek for you and me,
Is to be a stranger to one another.