Sunday Wordsmiths By Jhilam Adhikary

A glimpse of death

How does it feel to die a little For a few little seconds? At least once in your life You too must have experienced this Midnight, no one around Your chest hurts so much You can hardly speak It’s dark, your parents are sleeping You can’t breathe, You can’t stand still And your head is not working. You cannot stand up straight You cannot sit You need to spread your legs The entire weight of your body On your hands and and and Your hands tightly gripping your thighs You need to look down With your mouth open Or else you can’t breathe Your chest is heavy, Your diaphragm isn’t expanding You can feel your each individual rib Dry and hard in your chest You wish you could pull out your heart And keep it safe in a glass jar, Away from the pain of your body And if you can’t pull your heart out It will die along with it This pain, this extreme pain Of a few seconds Is the only proof left with you That reminds you That you want to survive a little bit at least I wonder if mere physical pain Had ever been so extreme before That a few seconds of breathlessness And headache and chest pain Feels so close to death A glimpse of death indeed And a little bit of more Wanting to live A wish to live A wish to stay alive And yet to escape pain In this world of romantic death, Romantic suicide, A sudden, unexpected urge to live.

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