Note: This was written sometime in early 2013. Found it and thought why not post it?

Had to change the names of my former classmates in the reflection part of this piece (for privacy reasons). 

Presently, I’m supposed to be studying and listening to the plethora of hematology lectures in the quiet room of the library at Sheridan College.  As per routine, I took a mental break from studying by visiting the library aisles.  I always go to the literature shelves, which are few in number but sufficient for my liking.

I Picked up a random anthology on American poetry, brought it back to the quiet room and sifted through it hoping to come across a new verse. And I did.

The piece is called, The Fire of Drift-wood by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Here is an excerpt:

We spake of many a vanished scene,

                Of what we once had thought and said,

Of what had been, and might have been,

                And who was changed, and who was dead;

And all that fills the hearts of friends,

                When first they feel, with secret pain,

Their lives thenceforth have separate ends,

                And never can be one again;

Ezra Pounds said that in order to understand poetry one must experience life in every form. Then it can be inferred poetry which relates to ones’ experiences reverberates more vividly through the mind.

I could not help but recall the emotions which overtook me at Mr. Letovsky's funeral.  It was strange to see those I hadn’t met for 7 years. To be in the same hallways, that remained unaltered since we graduated, and to feel this strange force a midst my past classmates. An emotion which Longfellow captures with excellence (albeit, I think his poem is more in reference to good friends from the past and not just individuals one recalls from the past, the latter of which is what I was mainly experiencing that day – the former I experience now with friends living abroad).  Nevertheless, it was an uncomfortable feeling to be at the funeral – for the obvious reason being, Iona’s best teacher had passed away (may he RIP) but also when I saw Terry and Jonathan (Gary was there too, unfortunately he seems to have changed in a peculiar manner that didn’t rub off on me too well), I was stuck all of a sudden in the old days - of who I was then and who everyone was around me. I guess I never feel that way with Katrina because we see each other often and have grown together in a manner. This was different – it was an uneasy experience – it reminded me of Time and its works – and how all things lead to one End.

I know I will feel this again. Possibly this summer - Huma and Ripika are coming back and their departure will be incredibly emotional. But, the weight of this poem is greater when time has passed between partings and a reunion then occurs – like at the funeral.

I could discuss more details of the ceremony but I’d rather not – I have discussed the body of the experience. The rest would only serve details for a reader who had not been there and I do not hope to share such emotional states with anyone besides myself.

It’s depressing to realize this passing nature of loved ones  - that one has to acclimate to an environment being constantly perturbed – just another way He tells us that this dunya is created to break the heart and it has no other purpose but that. How can one not yearn for the Hereafter with such signs a midst our lives? how can we not desire the constant presence of our loved ones (devoid of their troubles)? Ya Rabb, I pray that you protect me, my family and my friends in this world and the hereafter – may You make our reunion there.