It has been over two months since my brother Tehmtan Andhyarujina (pictured) passed away ("Andhyarujina’s acumen,” In Memoriam, Parsiana, April 21, 2017). A million memories shared over eight decades crowd my mind, each seeking to be expressed, but left unattended. How does one express a lifetime of sharing and caring? As always at such times, I turn to poetry, a passion I shared with him. The following poem, written by Alfred Lord Tennyson when the poet lost his dear friend expresses to some extent my feelings:
Break, Break, Break,/ On thy cold grey stones, O Sea!/ And I would that my tongue could utter/ The thoughts that arise in me...
And the stately ships go on/ To their haven under the hill./ But O for the touch of a vanished hand,/ And the sound of a voice that is still.
Break, break, break,/ At the foot of thy crags O Sea!/ But the tender grace of a day that is dead / Will never come back to me.
KHORSHED R. JAVERI
javerikhorshed@gmail.com
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