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      Death Song

         American Litt// Whitman poem ‘Out of the cradle in Endlessly Rocking’

After reading the “cry song” of the he bird on the beach shore of Paumanok ( Long Island) , my heart once more groping and grieving over something which I am not aware, that it was cosily settled in my mind in one corner. The word DEATH made me to LIVE again, to  create something which was submerged into the subconsciousness of my mind,
The Cry of the he- bird for the return of she- bird,  Their  love was spotless, making a home and making love and got four light green little eggs beautifully  brown spots into the carefully woven nest among the thorny green bushes .  It made them the most happy bird couple which never knew the cruel sting of the death.
They were busy in building a house for the past few days. Now they are busy building home for their future. The she-bird was sitting on those  little eggs with bright eyes and with a smile in that little throbbing heart. It was the spring time and the scent of the lilacs filled the waves of the air going thither and hither. They were extremely happy filled in love with one another. The world is colourful just they had planned it out, beautiful and perfect. Never suspecting any pain, suffering, or sorrow. From the minute they determined to build a home for them, they were enjoying the presence of each other. The days go by, every morning they get up planning how to make other the happiest one. They love their sweet home, hiding under the green leaves from the heat of the sun and coolness of the moon, a perfect home to live in. They had taken extra precautions to hide it from the prying eyes of killer birds.  When they flew into the sky they soar into the clouds dreaming for bright future. Now they have a responsibility to build a home, the instinct was too deep and dearly to the bird couple, it is so very sweet. The time has come for her to take up new responsility of “painful pleasure” of laying eggs, and to be a proud mother in her sweet home. The he- bird was there all ways beside her sitting and taking care of her by giving warmth of his presence and bringing the sweetest fruits of the season to his beloved. As usual they go out and come in, one by one while one of them taking care of the nest in the absence of the other. Their ecstatic joy knew no bounds.  They had duets of love for one another. The he Bird was specially gifted to sing songs for the sun inviting him to ‘shine” upon them, and give warmth of love forever. It was a “merry song” loud and sharp arrow into the beautiful white clouds, making others to envy the couple.

That days was like any other wonderful day, the time has come for the lady bird to go out in search of some food of her choice, to be strengthened to take care of the forthcoming fondling off springs. She went out humming the joyous songs telling her mate that she would be earlier than yesterday, hoping to spend some more time with him cosily in the nest, chirping some more news of outside.

But hours slipped away, from morning to afternoon and then dusk was coming down in phases. The little he -bird peeping out of the nest having  one  eye stealthily  on the speckled eggs. Waiting and calling as loudly as he could by his pet name of his beloved.  The darkness disappointed him, no trace of his beloved. Not knowing what had happened to his beloved, he waited all through the night, helpless, not able to do anything.  Next morning he could not stay home any more.

                He-bird went out for his beloved all through the morning and the night, fluttering its fairy feathers, wondering for the absence of his mate.

After a day or two it was anxious to get to know the whereabouts of his beloved, cries aloud, shrieks in the air to hear the voice of his mate. It cried aloud desperately asking the  air that comes from Alabama, wondering his beloved had gone back to their native place leaving him alone, so he begs the air to tell him the whereabouts of his sweetheart. Asking the wind to “blow back my beloved to me”

             His cry was heart wrenching but at the same time there was Hope against Hope.  He somehow was sure of his beloved  sojourn. He was wondering may be his beloved flew to the much loved land Alabama for a short stay.

                Night passed away again with its darkest hopeless and lonely, chilly home without the fluttering of his beloved. The place where it used to be warm is cold and solid  now which mocks at him.

  The sky heartlessly cradles the memories to and fro, to the sky and to the sand.  Staring at the white beach till the eyes screened with sand, looking deep into the sky with those tearful glances, life seems to be endless song of monotony.   He begged the moon this time to tell the news about his beloved. Moon is same in Albama or in Long Island, may be his beloved looking at the same moon as he is now , somewhere, thinking of him. But he was utterly disappointed by the silence of the moon.   The twinkling of the stars in that dark night gave him a flicker of hope of his beloved, so he requested to give the trak of his beloved to reach her. But the stars are deaf to hear he loud cries and could not reach him to answer through the dead silence of the night.

This dear sweet love bird, thought his voice is not reaching the elements of the universe, he shrieked to the pitch of his voice hoping from somewhere his love would answer him.  He was tired, and listless, sad and sat on the branch of the tree remembering those old days how he and his beloved nestled together on it lovingly looking into the eyes of each other in the full moon.

Tears of reminiscence are too hot, to bear any more.   Life is telling the hard truth, that there is only lonely left here after.  But still there is that hope, if he would call gently his beloved would hear from somewhere and would reply to him in response. He tried his level best to woo her again, but no response.

The naked hard truth is hurting him too much. His beloved is no more. He turned to the Darkness pleading it to swallow him for he could not tolerate this lonely ness any more.  At the same time he is questioning himself how can he forget those joyful moments he enjoyed with his beloved.

                     It is emotional, desperate hope total despair for the perpetual loss, It looks at the surf in rhythmically soothing both itself and its opposite , the sand. The surf sand love image leads to joyful reminiscence of his past erotic joys. The love thoughts, provide the bird with the motive for seeking his love again and he begs the night to reassure him that his love indeed return to him by song in an excited and hopeful address to his absent , he turns to himself , silent, tears, memories, are only left for him. Life could never be the same. In this present or in future.

I sat on the bench in the backyard, the rose bush behind smells good, the early hours of the day brings fresh winds of warmth, the morning rays of the sun touching my nap, but the reality of his absence made me look into the present and my future. Wherever I go , wherever I tried to seek solace its all myth, the reality is I am alone, will be alone, forever alone.  The talks of the friends on mobile, the one second smile of the family members are only a moments reality, its not truth.  Never had this doubt before, I enjoyed every moment as of truth, but all that truth vanished, confused me not able to understand which is truth and which is not.  Since he left, no relation in this world is true,  Thank God  my God is real, and He is Truth. I am blessed to have Him. Otherwise there is no hope in life. Though these screens of memories coming and disappearing all in a sudden. Never mind, I am still having hope to see him one day. That is enough for this life.

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Posted by Leela malaka Lydia at 12:31 PM

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Hello All! I am a retired Lecturer, Former Air Hostesses, and a writer. I love to share MY STORIES, WITH MY GOD.

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