ORION

13. every sandpaper sunrise

now playing : every sandpaper sunrise.

from the lilac shades of life.
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◄◄⠀▐▐ ⠀►►⠀⠀          ⠀ 13:00 / 17:00

to my aunt, A.N.H &
to my uncle, M.A.

seven petals plucked
from one flower,
it's withering away,
the avalanche has started,
i feel it coming my way,
this spring feels so cold,
just like the truth,
like everything about that
day i wish i never knew.

that sandpaper sunrise and
the memories that hold us
together are so clandestine,
your epitaph is engraved in my mind,
why do the birds sing a song so sad?;
one day, this pain will start
to fade into the colours of the past.

it's bitter, so bitter, that i can clearly remember the last time you waved
goodbye from the car window,
they were taking you to the hospital,
it was your last time at home,
but how could any of us had ever known?

then the men and the
women wail & mourn,
tears escaped, promises of remembrance sworn,
your books are still on your bedside table waiting for you to come back,
the pain was creeping below
our necks so fast.

that morning, i was irked that the sky was a sombre peace to my sore eyes,
the world kept moving,
i was haunted that you-
we, were left behind,
heartbeats becoming a flat line
& my greatest fear being realised,
after everything i lost,
there it was, shining so bright,
that sandpaper sunrise.

your last casket was moonlit
and serene,
just like beethoven's symphony,
and i won't ever forget you,
the person you used to be,
on some twilights, i'll tell your
childhood streets how much
you loved to live, i promise,
every sandpaper sunrise,
you will be missed.

∞

A/N : at first, i only wrote this poetry for my aunt, but not even three months later, i lost my uncle in a hauntingly similar way.

there's something that death and grief does to you, and it happens so subtly that it's almost hard to make out.

these past few months, i've seen the ghostly smiles of my relatives, which fades away after a moment of discretion, i've seen my nephews and nieces ask about where my aunt went, i've seen my uncle's daughter sit in utter denial of his passing, and aruge with everyone that he's coming back, i've seen the books they loved so much now being locked inside the wardrobes they left behind, i've seen the way it all suddenly & outlandishly changed.

and i've seen myself stop writing because there aren't any words that first come to mind and i know that we have all spent night after night, countless times, in shock and a sadness that no one could put a name to.

it's all a sad mixture of gray, and i know that life doesn't wait for anyone but when you lose someone so close to you, that just seems cruel. so cruel.

and when i was staring at the dawning sky that day, i was angry.

i was furious how everything seemed strangely normal yet everything for us, had suddenly changed. and it might never go back to the way it was.

they'll never know what profession i choose, they'll never know if i actually ever write a book or if i find someone i'll fall in love with-as i was thinking these things i realized how selfish it was of me, to want them to be here for me. i think instead of that, i want to be there for them, and to remember them-every sandpaper sunrise. i'll always remember the seven, too important people that i've lost-every moment.

so, this if for those who have lost someone too, because that's never something we can ever get used to. and i genuinely hope you heal.