The response

 

The eruption of first shrill tear

That welcomes nascent infancy

But with a slight pinch of pain

While there is joy all around

To the last hollow sigh within

That fails to find resonance

Among the succeeding specks

For there is no next breath

There is an infinite relief stacked

Among shrieks of utmost sorrow.

The day long wait for a return

Of the Master who leaves in light

And remembers to knock in the dark

Ends with a wrinkled forehead

Only to wrap the folds in morning

And to wait again in the groping light.

The joy of a hopeful heart basks upon;

The pain of an ailing soul suffers amidst;

The stoic response of a counter pane.

Rishikesh

2300

21.45 hrs

3.7.25