Crossing Over

I can see the tendrils float,
I can sense them leave,
Through my fingers-
And onward.

I sit in on a morose crowd,
Talking of years afore,
And tears adorn those pretty faces
Shivering hands comfort others.

Beguilled of attention thus-
I place my hand over another
To offer solace,but;
As though my comfort means nothing.

And I rise before a mirror,
To see the wall behind my face-
And a hollow realisation dawns-
I am a soul among the living.

Helplessness smothers me,
The longing suffocates,
I wish well, I must take leave
I am an altered insider.

I must join my realm-
Where spirits float by,
Removed, unreachable,
Lonely but mute.

I'll surround myself,
WIth ghosts of friends-
I'll make a new life,
With tendrils of remains.

But-
I'll linger occasionally;
In the land of mortals.

Shilpa Iyer