In most of the festivities, sadness cast its shadow like the ancient skeletons hung amidst sumptuous feasts. I could never let it go for this heart never knew how to let its soul soar in the skies.
Every year, this was a celebration of joys and sorrows with equanimity: for one learnt this bitter stoic attitude quite early in life. There was no better teacher than my grandmother who sang the way of the cross in her sweet mellow voice during Lent.
For it was never an easy life; always a loss between the cup and the lip and when the ancient scale of weights is checked against feathers, it is a heavy heart that upsets the balance by its inability to let go of the past.
Every year, this was a celebration of joys and sorrows with equanimity: for one learnt this bitter stoic attitude quite early in life. There was no better teacher than my grandmother who sang the way of the cross in her sweet mellow voice during Lent.
For it was never an easy life; always a loss between the cup and the lip and when the ancient scale of weights is checked against feathers, it is a heavy heart that upsets the balance by its inability to let go of the past.
