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The Postman




His bag was light
One small dirty brown envelope
But his shoulders weighed heavily
As he walked through
The desolate streets
Littered with army men
And  stray dogs

--
His gait heavy, the men
Stopped him and searched
Looking for stones in his pockets
For the weight made
Him walk slowly
But all he carried was
One small dirty brown envelope
--

The muddy slushy road
That led to a desolate house
Surrounded by wails and
Other small houses
The trek became more treachrous
With each step, the bag with the
One small dirty brown envelope
became heavier
--
When he walked in
The wailing stopped
As a small kid stared at the
Anonymous man with the
One small dirty brown envelope
--
He had been too late, the
One small dirty brown envelope
Was too late
There would be no goodbye
No tearfull final re-unions
--
the one dirty brown envelope
had a small carefully folded paper
its edges betraying
the shaking hands which had folded it
In it beautiful mornful Urdu
Which only said
“Don’t mourn, Rejoice”


--

T

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