This neighbour came home, last evening
She just walked in, purposefully
And then, just meandered in conversations.
She has a lovely smile. She is always smiling.
She spoke for a while of many things
The trees and the shrubs and birds
and how people are no longer sensitive to these things.
“Who will raise their voice for them now..”, she asks a rhetoric
I listened.. fascinated by her passion for things that grow
And she then also spoke,
Of how she can no longer really see all the things she is describing
Perhaps she recalls from memory, I think.
Thank god she took in all these details when she could..
And then she talks of her losing sense of details
Even as she is no longer able to see colour.
“I used to be a perfectionist” she says,
With a pride badge….
and laughs.
She has been a very famous actor of her times
Acting is in her blood..
but…
Truth cannot be acted out, not for too long atleast.
Her laugh is veiled,
she might as well have wailed.
It pierces through my heart anyway.
Her eyes are still beautiful, and they have their own dialogues.
She comes with an unspoken plea
To save the trees, and shrubs and the birds
And maybe…her fragile dignity
It is so precious ..I almost stop breathing.
In all this fragility , I see mine clearly
There is a moment when I don’t really know
who is asking to be saved and by whom
My own vison is now blurred
Maybe I am crying..
It’s too dark to see, anyway.
I feel her gentleness and care
Deeply
For the trees and shrubs and birds..
And me.
And I wish,
She keeps some of that for herself.
I wish she sees..
How Perfect She already is.
Her eyes can see things that matter
And that’s all that matters.
~Rhea
