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Can I pick that flower you so tenderly grew?

Name it ‘freedom’ and replant it by your grave?

May I borrow your ink and pen a verse or two?

And narrate that unfinished story for you?

                     That child out there with vacant eyes…can I pick her up?

                     And tell her all the things you wanted to…

                     Can I shower her with love so tender?

                     And instil in her your convictions unshakable…

                     May I tell her that this was not meant to be?

Can I borrow your voice for a moment?

And tell the world what the promise was…

That which nineteen-year-old boys grew old holding on to

May I grab hold of a compatriot’s shoulders with your hands?

And shake them until they wake up and remember what the dream was

                               May I pat the shoulders of that comrade you left behind?

                                   And encourage him that it is not over yet…?

                                   May I call him by the nicknames you came up with?

                                  May I resuscitate his jovial smile?

                                 And make this valley echo with laughter… once more

Can I wipe the tears off your mother’s eyes?

And tell your children that you don’t regret your life a bit?

May I gather your siblings and tell them it was well worth it?

Can I trumpet your deeds? Shall I tell the world all that you achieved?

                                Can I finish that poem you were writing?

                               Could I perhaps sing the song you were humming?

                               I will soon retrace the route and start where you left off

                           But right now all I want to do is live this moment for you

Aug 2009