On Dinner and Hearing the News

On Dinner and hearing the news Your soft touch, elbow to elbow, not withdrawn, steady; An unnecessary head on shoulder in lament. Casual glances, a quiet acceptance of the gift of food The next night. The inner tremor of excitement, that suppressed desire Might be shared and returned in kind. A hesitant embrace and parting kiss, no certainty, No casual expectation. And then doubt, insidious doubt, the intrusion of reality; Followed by the sadness of self knowledge and The inexorable truth of physical age, with the foolishness Of mental self deception. And then the starkness of life in its rawness and agony; Life on an Indian street, whole family Less those daughters sold or married as children Into what despair and baseness? Death, casual passing in extremis, just blood and bones, To be collected and given rudimentary burial, to pass Into history and be lost, unlamented, unremembered A brief candle in the darkness. What if we spoke our thoughts with no heed of consequence? Would then a simple yes or no suffice, with no judgment, Or unfeeling criticism or labelling as an unwelcomed intrusion. An acceptance of true feeling? Is our caution and anxious avoidance of exposure to others, No more than an affection of superior sensibility? Are we not, in truth, no more than a Calcutta family, Contained within a few square metres of open pavement?