Category: Poems

Xena

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

You look behind to see if I am coming.

You would take your toy and come to me running.

You are a grumpy little thing with bat-like ears.

You came to me at a time that was filled with tears.

You journeyed through miles, quite a valiant feat.

When I held you, you made my family complete.

I named you a warrior princess, not a guest.

You have more than passed the strongest of tests.

Life has a few more in store for you, I’m afraid,

but I can count on all the victories you’ve made.

So tomorrow may frighten the hell out of me,

but the warrior in you shall fight valiantly.

I love you the most, my daughter, and that you know,

for every glance you give me tells me so.

Know I’ll be there if, on the table, you feel alone,

waiting outside the doors to take you right back home.

So keep your strength and let them cut the cancer out.

Fight and be strong, and you’ll win — I have no doubt.

My heart aches for all the battles you must fight,

but being your dad, that falls as my right.

Just know, as I see you stick your head out of the cone,

the moment I held you, you stopped being on your own.

My Children

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

They are my children — each four-legged canine.

I am human; they aren’t, but they are mine.

Each came to my life, made it softer;

Each has brought its share of love and laughter.

Each pup has known my embrace and promise,

And saved the hope life wanted to tarnish.

They shone — white, or fawn, or tiger brindle —

Each brought a flame that’s forever kindled.

They pulled me back from death, I confess, twice;

Leaving them without me was not a choice.

So they stave my depression with their walks;

Most nights, they engage me in play or talks.

Xena is the smartest, Diana the kindest;

Rolfe often brought my temper to the test.

Zoe, my shadow, I loved the very best;

Bonzo was my first, and Zach’s my first-born,

And each passing gets my heart ripped and torn.

I lost my faith in God when Zoe died,

And when death comes to each, how I have cried.

They taught me early how grave loss can be,

And death seems now almost like family.

My kids have helped build all my empathy,

And love, and valour, and brave sympathy.

They have no clue of hardship, death, and life;

They have indirectly taught me a stray’s strife.

I see and judge the world through their pure eyes,

Because no one in it ever lies or dies.

I give them all the love I have and can,

And each of them makes me a better man.

They Can Only Hope

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

They can’t explain their hunger to you.

They can’t tell you they want your care.

They can only hope you won’t tie them up,

and drag them behind your motorbike,

until they rip apart, long after they strangulate.

They can only hope you give them a kind thought,

and allow them to crawl into the shutter gap,

away from the torrential rains,

your own greed has brought into the world.

They can only hope you won’t use plastic

to wrap their helpless newborn children,

and toss them in flowing or stagnant water,

or take time to bury them alive.

They can only hope.

Because they don’t know human beings.

They don’t know the stupid wars you fight,

and the way you shoot down anyone

who doesn’t belong to the majority vote.

They don’t know your history and greed.

They don’t know you have invaded their lands

and driven them out.

Your acts of genocide are unknown to them.  

They can only hope that you may give them a scrap of unwanted food,

under a godless sky, over a parched cement block,

and maybe just maybe 

let them be.