Escaping death

Today morning I dug a grave.
Reluctantly. In my frontyard.
A tiny one. 
For the squirrel.
Who lay motionless.
In the balcony, near the door.
Eyes open. Staring a deep meaningful look. Unblinking.
The one which tugs at your heart. Very hard. So hard that it scratches your soul.
I take a deep breath. 
Now comes the difficult part. 
Collecting the body. And burial. 
I look for help. None was available.
I wear my mask. It will not protect me from the squirrel. And it will not protect the squirrel from me. But it may protect me from myself.
I take a deep breath again and hold it. 
I make my approach like a pilot steering a jumbojet on a precarious runway. With a garden spade. 
(The same with which I dug the grave). 
It's inadequate and inappropriate.
I clumsily touch the tiny squirrel's body with the spade. 
It shivers. And is roused! From perhaps a deep slumber!
My hands shake and heart gallops at the sudden movement. 
The squirrel dodges the spade and makes its escape. But not before casting a swift accusatory look with its tiny eyes. That even my mask cannot protect me against.


Shashank said…
One of the best creation of urs. Keep it up
ED said…
Mrigank said…
A Happy Ending...
I'm glad....
Varuna said…
Loved it! One of your best!
This is top class!

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