Let Me Die With Dignity.

By Vidhutma Singhania

Who says it’s not foolish but brave

to walk in the cold, solitude of darkness,

let me walk toward the light,

reach out to its lime-like embers.

Let me take my final breath

in the moments of known tranquility.

It’ll all come to an end,

the blur wouldn’t matter,

my bones will tremble

for one final pirouette of anxiety.

So, as the war finally ends, one more time

let me squabble with the voices in my head.

Let me die with dignity.

Let me carve my last footprints

through this brazen battleground,

witness the havoc of blood lust,

a massacre of all my strength.

Let me sing my final song,

not a single note of complaint,

I’ll only whistle our tale of love.

So, in my final moments

let me forget the suffering of your absence.

Let me die with dignity.

Let me finally grasp life in all its shades,

embrace the gnarled trunks of old oak trees,

fall for bright sunflowers

and dark clouds all alike.

Let my eyes pour their final tears

some drenched in melancholy,

others heavy with the fragrance of affinity.

I’ll weep with the final utterance

of a story I drew with my wretched hands.

So, as I flip through the last pages

let me write my final words.

Let me die with dignity.

By Vidhutma Singhania