For daughters who mourn

No one told me
that loss comes
with a gag order,

that my mouth,
such a big room

would turn catacomb
for death to enshrine itself.

At the back of my throat

a wail, a sea swell
a gale, a deep well

yet what does it matter

when they tell me
“silence is still language”

I will not leave you
a voiceless void,
nor a sepulcher for
useless meaning,

I will teach you
that we burn our dead,
you may light my pyre.

I will not hold you
hostage, nor your voice
nor your love.

Before I die,
I will teach you
the way and the word
to mourn me with.

Karuna Chandrashekar is a psychotherapist practising in New Delhi, India.