A gulf

Bony hands

Diminished legs

Fixated on the tiniest of things.

Memory less dependable.

Understanding less concise.

Yet grappling with a new language of being.

Performing seva

Instilled since childhood.

The sounds of shabads echo around the living room.

Thick heavy silence

A gulf.

Sometimes the felt sense, that it is impossible to breech.

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Tattered flags

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All my Mothers