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Amore,
Remember pretty places for all the right reasons,
let them speak to you in the language of nostalgia,
Remember that our bodies are ephemeral,
that we are mortals but love isn’t.
Remember to not dig graves in vain,
remember to live and not perish in pain.
Keep love with you.
Keep it alive when I’m gone,
keep it warm in the winter snow,
keep it safe under the blue doormat,
keep it from the sudden striking storms,
Keep it away from the wildflowers that wilt
and wither when watered with tears.
Grow white chrysanthemums on it instead,
grow on it — a garden, and gate it well,
grow the seeds we never cared to sow,
grow them when the grief weighs you down,
and nurture them till the vines leave the ground.
And If you ever freeze,
let your love be liquid gold.
Let it burn your skin and crawl to your bones,
let it glide and glaze all over your soul,
let it see the world and feel as you,
let it live and breathe free in you.
Let it be you, let it be.
© Arundhati 2020
