How do I weigh a life?
Do I ask it to mount the scales?
There are no stairs leading up to it;
After all, Lady Justice is blind
And architecture doesn't interest her.
How do I measure a life?
Do I collect broken tongues and spit
And place it beside a photograh?
A carefree mother
And child at the hem.
How do I remember a life?
A tooth lost on a mossy stairwell,
Cement and house below, ever familiar.
Yet undocumented, yet elusive,
Yet a habit of the mind.
How do I save a life?
Carry the child out into the winter sun?
A wicker chair under an old coconut tree;
Monsoon is harsh keeper of the clock
And the ponds prepare for drowning season.