We don't talk much about you anymore,
except on those rare occasions when conversations were
related to you in some way,
like about your eldest sister who has gone blind
or about scooters and helmets,
or hypertension.
And they don't talk much about you anymore either;
your siblings, on their merry visits during Eid
as they sit around the coffee table
making petty coffee table conversations
about every little inconsequential thing
their little minds could think of.
When they're around, I'd always make sure the TV was on
so that all chatter remains inconsequential,
but sometimes there are awkward silences in between
and then I'd wish you were here to help fill in those gaps
with your unfailing way of making
conversations.
We don't talk much about you anymore, it's true,
Not in conversations over lunch, nor dinnertime, or at occasional get-togethers;
But there is a small part of you in my mind that is still
breathing, and laughing, and talking
and snoring. And perhaps mom, and sis, and bro and even your little nieces who
once knew you,
keep a small part of you too.
---- circa 2008
