I stayed under the moon too long.
I am silvered from
Collecting the names of the lovers
Who treated me like flowers
In those two arms
And threw sorry along with me.
Both crushed into a pile of memories
Of little and little more of their lives.
It’s a fact all that is silver
Doesn’t have a lining.
Not all those who are crushed,
Fade.
Sometimes you don’t need a line
But a fork to pick yourself up.
Especially, when that building came down
Before you could find a way out.
So, I cross my heart and
Find my place in a corner of
The elevator shaft.
These cold days of December
Burn brighter than the sun.
As I watch the elevator
Coming down, I realise
Why was time invented.
Slow and steady is the promise
While time unceasingly moves
In one direction
And usually heals if you let it.
Screw that, it’s paradoxical
That I break myself, to remake myself.
Like every other brilliant process
It takes time.
Screw that, it’s paradoxical
ReplyDeleteThat I break myself, to remake myself.
Like every other brilliant process
It takes time.
those lines. worth the wait. but yes, there is hope even in pain. so this poetry and the poet, is better again!
:)
ReplyDeleteThank you for waiting for something here.
And thank you for acknowledging.
The hope dies hard.
the point is not about the hope dying. its about it growing. so big, that nothing can kill it. :)
ReplyDelete