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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