The Name Forgotten Poem by ashok jadhav

Once, it fell from lips like a bell,
clear, alive, carrying laughter and breath.
Now it hovers in silence,
a ghost that trembles but cannot be called,
vanished from conversations, from memory,
as if it had never existed at all.
I reach for it in quiet rooms,
in old letters and faded photographs,
but the tongue falters, the voice fails,
and the name dissolves like smoke
between my fingers.
Even the air seems to mourn it,
thick with what remains unsaid,
and grief grows in the empty spaces
where sound once carried life.
I carry it alone,
a sacred ember tucked into the chest,
and mourn the disappearance of speech,
the vanishing of presence,
and the quiet ache of a soul
whose very name is no longer spoken.