Upon Reading of the Death of Reetika Vazirani

Posted by in Motherhood Project, Poetry, Writing

I must admit
I searched for photographs
long before I took a moment
to figure how
to pronounce your name.
I wondered
grotesquely
what it must look like:

a young Indian poet
lying parallel
to her two-year old son’s body
both silent
wrists slashed.

And having read
recently
so much of suicide
and death
having taken it apart
dissected it
I felt, perhaps,
I had some inside knowledge
or then, perhaps not
and hence–
It is a morbid obsession
how often images will
bring us nearer
to horror than
mere words.
How we hunger
to revel in our own
ideations
because years of violence
have left us desensitized
numb
and now
we want for tears
we want for grief.

Ache to feel my chest
heave in outrage
to hear my own
shock come stuttering out
beneath the bleary-eyed
evidence:
overwhelming
humanity.

But
silent
and tearless
with no image
to note
I can only find

these words.

Read about her suicide here:
http://www.nathanielturner.com/reetikavazirani.htm