Maa knows
the world is soundless
and noise. She mouths
sutras while brother and bhabhi
laugh like spring hatchlings, as Father’s
name fogs the back window.
My husband’s eyes swing,
like a directionless wind,
between us. I cannot answer
his wordless question.
I perseverate on the plastic
a/c vent hanging limp from
the limo’s ceiling,
swinging at the will
of every turn.
We balance Father’s
“18×24” gently smiling
semi-glossed portrait
framed in Mahogany.
Each of our hands
are knowing, yet unsteady.
We allow the other
the comfort of a limbless cry
but will not allow
the wood to crack.
On our procession to the funeral,
pious statues of weeping
cherry blossoms and crabapples
bury branched hands in reverence.
There are those of us
who still pray,
like Maa.
Preeti Shah serves as Associate Director of Communications for the online magazine, YJPerspectives. She is a finalist for the Fall 2019 Brooklyn Poets Fellowship. She has received her B.A. in Fine Arts, specializing in Music. Currently she rehabs the geriatric population through physical therapy. Preeti resides in Queens, NY.