Accident

A dark cold night blinded by thick white mist, 

Am driving down the street, feeling absolutely pissed.

At that time he took a turn too fast, or was my reflexes slow?

Brake, skid, tyre burn - tree by my side felt the full blow. 

“Quickly send an ambulance” a shaken voice was saying,

“God, please show some mercy” the voice kept on praying.

My chest felt tight like a stone and I can hear a distant moan,

While floating from dark to light, between known and unknown.

“My mother is ill" the voice said, "was hurrying to call a Doc”

I tried very hard to remember, when last I have seen my mom.

On my eighteenth birthday, the day I stormed out of her home.

“Stop running my life for me, I want to live alone”

From that day onwards, I have not called her once

Will surely call her now, if only I get that chance.

Dunno how she fared in life, whether she lived or died,

In her retirement home, with her memories all archived.

I am forty-two today to her eighty-seven,

Will she ever forgive me, when I finally reach heaven. 

“Wife is expecting our first child” voice said “this very month rather.

I want to hold the child in my arms and be a hands-on father.

Ambulance will be here soon, try to breathe slowly.

I am praying for you now, don’t give-up so easily.”

I too remembered having a wife, thirteen-years of marriage,

My burning need for an heir, left her with many miscarriage.

Thinking it’s all her fault, I took to booze and lovers,

My bretrayal hurt her so much that she hanged her with bed covers.

I am forty-two today to her thirty-seven

Will she ever forgive me, when I finally reach heaven.

Blare of heaven’s bell, I hear, are coming from near or far?

White-clothed angel, oh-so gently, pulled me in a comfy stretcher.

They felt my head, they felt my ribs, they felt my arms and legs,

It should hurt but strangely though, I felt only numbing effect.

Feeling fit I rise above, in a puff of white-gray smoke,

That moment I felt strangely light, my senses fully awoke.

A crumpled-mangled body like mine, was lying on blood soaked-ground,

A badly shaken man by its side, was making awful choking sound.

I died at age forty-two without sorting my personal hell,

Never will I get to say “sorry” as I hear my own death bell!! 

Copyright: Shukla Banik

Posted in Poemish: April 9th 2016

Posted in Facebook: April 12 2016