I Did Not Die

By Shourya Sinha

When the sun finally sets,

and the winds are at rest,

and when the Reaper’s scythe

stands at my doorstep,

I shan’t bring out a knife.

I shan’t put up a fight.

I shan’t put up a stand.

I shall, ‘stead, bring forth my hand.

I shall let the ferryman guide

me happily to the afterlife.

I shall chat up Death himself,

and bore him with my whines.

Perhaps a joke or two,

Oh, such magic they’d do!

Maybe even bring out some wine,

Only of the highest quality, mighty fine!

It is my honest prayer that he gets comfy—

lets his shoulders hunch, laughs heartily!

Moments merge with millennia in the sky!

Death talks of his death, I talk of my life.

I don’t know where he’s taking me—

there’s no soil below my feet,

no sun above my head,

and no light in my eyes!

“What a life you have lived, sir, truly!

Such a shame, duty came calling at me!”

“You aren’t any worse, dearest Grimmy!

Must get lonely, rowing this ferry!”

“That it does, I must admit,

but I meet folks as you, it’s a great benefit!”

“Ah, you flatter me, dearest Death!

I’m a nobody. Alive no more, but not yet dead!”

And an eternity shall pass as such,

but it felt like a minute, not much—

before my time came, and it came too soon.

“Move, move, it’s your time. Shoo, shoo.

No hard feelings, champ, part of the job.”

The ferry reaches the other bank, and we step off.

I stand prepared, though I have reached my end,

and I waltz into Hell, smiling at my friends!

And so, when my time shall come,

I haven’t died; it has only begun!

Do not weep at my pyre,

and do not be sorry for my leaving.

Do set my body on fire,

but burn not my memory!

And grieve not my departure,

for I am still here, mightier and larger!

You won’t find me in my ashes;

you’ll find me singing with the wind.

And so, if miss me you must,

don’t waste it staring at my dust!

For I am the roar of the thunder,

but also the buzzing of the bees,

and I am watching your every anger,

as well as your merry glee!

And so, find me in the trees,

and in the flowers of bloom.

Catch me running in the sea,

and haunting your bathroom!

I am the bard, and I am his lyre.

I am the day, and I am the night!

I am the Moon, I am the Sun, and I am the sky.

I am still here. I did not die.

By Shourya Sinha