Thursday, February 2, 2017


Oh death—departure of the life that was,
that only now exists in memory—
how bitter is your taste—and yet how sweet.
How dreadful is the blow that sets us free.

What use, regret?  How now to pay the dues?
How much, that’s precious, snatched and swept away!
No court, that takes or rules on our appeal.
Our only recompense is that of tears.

And yet, can death extinguish love—that lasts
when all the rest is seen as transient?
We yield the body and the mind to death,
but not the things that stay within our hearts.
2017 February 2nd, Thu., 9 pm,
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York.
In memory of our beloved 
daughter, sister, mother, friend
Anita (T’ukul) Sen (born Bose),
who passed away earlier today, in Kolkata,
mourned by her son, Anirup, 

daughter-in-law Nabanita,
grandson Rimpu and many others

(Last stanza added 2017 Feb. 7th) 



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