The Last Bridge To Kiratpur

by

Jeasbe Gurjeet Singh

~ Dream Walker ~

●HE: 
when you first saw me, you saw me with your soul 
when you held me, you held me on your eyelashes 
when you are letting it all go, why do you need to let go of my hands… 
were we not meant to stay bodyless ? …

~ ♥SHE: 
Don’t look for me in a human shape. I am inside your looking. 
No room for form with love ‘this strong’. -(Rumi)

SHEDDING

In the wee hours of the breaking dawn, people start coming here
holding vermilion covered urns that hold the ashes of their loved ones….
They hold these urns with care, with respect, close to their hearts
Much closer than they had ever held the person that rests,
Now, as a handful of dust in their hands.

The last journey, they call it..not realizing that ..
THIS IS THE FIRST STEP of that person’s journey now onwards…

All his life, whom they had loved, hated, hugged, hit, held in the arms, used, abused whatever…
They are fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters… Wives .. husbands .. friends …
And painfully little ones whom they had hugged all their lifetimes… to give them better lives, to be better parents, better sons, wives .. husbands and what nots….Something inside them died……..when ‘that’ body did.

The soul never ever does …do they even know this ??

The Last bridge to Kiratpur…. This is an overhanging Bridge that starts from one bank of the River Sutlej beside the Gurudwara and ends in the middle of the River….

There is no second bank ……………!!!

This is the bridge ‘no one has ever crossed’…………..Not even the Bridge itself..
Because it ends ….as life does…in the middle of life ~ It all seems to end here,
BUT as one can see it… it is supposed to begin here.

Daily people shed away the jewels , trinkets, rings, chains of their lost ones and keep them beside the sill on the bridge…and no one picks them up
[I wonder where they go….]
Whoever picks them up must be feeling that he or she can carry them away inside his own urn….
[~smiles~ ]

Is it so easy shedding ??
Shedding what one had held close to ones heart ? Can one ever shed a memory as much as the person who made that…?
Can moments be shed ?
Can the ‘She inside the US’ ever be shed or am I just going around in circles…..

Since Morning people have been shedding dust in the still waters…..
Dust that was ash…..Ash that was air….
Straight out of fire… Fire that was once a burning pyre Pyre that was a still cold body
The body that was ‘someone’ ~ someone precious…………..someone warm ~
And they do it so well…….day upon day…hour on hour ~

And I ??? WHY AM I…..??? having problems in shedding ‘something’ that I carried all the way inside the crimson beating urn housed inside my rib cage..

How can I not shed the ‘her’ from inside the ‘US’ ??

Or does ‘SHE’ have a better plan …..
Some other place, some other time, some other Lifetime…… I wonder……………..

Tonite I shall sleep beneath the stars beside this last Bridge to Kiratpur….
And ask the waters, it all…..

Disclaimer: : The SHE as ever is the GOD inside whatever I write and that belief that GOD IS A WOMAN:

I will end with a quote …

The fountains
mingle with the river 
And the rivers
with the Ocean, 
The winds of Heaven
mix for ever With a sweet emotion; 
Nothing in the world is single; 
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle. 
Why not I with thine?
– Shelley

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This post first appeared in the last bridge.