Death dwells between is and was,

Riding the final particle of a fading breath.

We become the prey of its silent summons,

Without human flesh, death cannot claim existence.

Death dwells at the edge of a chopped whisper,

Stretching into eternity's embrace.

In its palm, death cradles the acquired soul,

Turning is into was, meaning into echoes,

As useless as a split consonant.

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Written upon my father's death in 2001.

Dilruba Z. Ara is the author of internationally acclaimed novels A List of Offences and Blame. Ara's stories and poems‒published in many international anthologies‒are studied at universities across the world. She has translated Selected Stories of Shahed Ali into English, A List of Offences into Swedish, and some of Sweden's Pippi Longstocking stories into Bengali. She lives in Lund, Sweden. To know more about her visit her website www.dilrubazara.com.