By Fiza Pathan
I donated my blood to him today
and left without meeting him face to face.
He was pale and cold to touch when I saw him
as they connected us intravenously together.
He was unconscious and didn’t know that someone
was saving his life by relinquishing their blood to him.
The needle pricked me hard and a few drops of
my life giving liquid stained the white immaculate bedsheet
─but he was asleep all that while in the deep sleep
of one who is running through a dark tunnel.
I watched his yellow face blush red when
my blood so red entered his veins and I was glad.
I was saving his life by transfusion and all
were pleased with my contribution of drops by the drip.
His wife in an ochre sari with his infant son in her arms
thanked me with her eyes before
I too fell asleep because of the loss within my veins.
I dreamt of my blood mixing with his
and how by this one act, I had become
one with him ─ one flesh ─ one blood.
In that moment, I was closer to him than his own wife
─ as the colour returned to his face and body.
I awoke cold and weak, in need of some food
and the warmth of my home ─ so after I was
detached from him, I went off without meeting
the one to whom I donated my precious reviving blood.
Now as the twilight comes on and
the white owl screeches its lullaby to the darkness
─ I remember the one in whom I live
who will soon forget me.
But I won’t forget him, the one to whom
I owe this feeling of gratitude, for now
even if I die … my blood will still live within him
and therefore in death too I shall live.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan