Tag: children

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.

Ultimatum

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

You say you’re tired;
But I’ll tell you how tired feels:
It feels like those countless times
Your dad picks on you,
Because you’re gay,
And you dread the sound of him entering a room;
So much so that he makes you afraid of men in general –
To be tired of the fear and the feelings of inadequacy.

You say you’re tired;
But I’ll tell you how tired feels:
It feels like falling in love,
When you realise it wasn’t meant to be just once,
Like all those books say,
It happens over and over again,
With people who cut up your heart;
Because they cannot love it whole.
To be tired of explaining who you are,
To those who want to love you entire
But cannot.

You say you’re tired;
But I’ll tell you how tired feels:
It feels like the pain that rips your inside,
When the children you love are taken
By death – and yet you get another –
For the love you gain
It’s happiness you sacrifice.
To be tired then of death itself;
Because you have met him as a guest
Who is unwelcome but demands attention
And a complete tally of records.

You say you’re tired;
But I’ll tell you how tired feels:
It feels like all those futile times,
When you tried to make yourself more than
A caricature
Of trying to prove your quality.
To be tired of prejudice itself;
Because you realise humanity is bitter
And their contentment lies in the ruin of the other.

You say you’re tired.
But that’s a bit of how my tired feels.

Yulin

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

When I see the dogs in Yulin,
Boiled alive, or skinned alive, or beaten to death,
The horror of it brings my lost children to mind.
There are no words to convey
On how I miss their eyes and presence.
Animals by far are the most giving
Of their time and their love.
I ask people who profess love
To show intimacy;
But their time demands more passion
And all my children needed was my time.
Their time alive was encompassed intimacy
And so dreadfully short.
I wonder why cruelty
Becomes a palate for cuisine?
Doesn’t grace justify a quick death?
Why must consciousness be alive,
When it is dunked into boiling water?
What feast can be derived from that?
I have protected dogs. I am a father.
I have nurtured dogs. I am a mother.
I have wept at their death.
I am a parent.
To say that each life is important,
That might is right is important,
That the circle of life is important,
Is true and the world exists.
But the lion doesn’t boil its prey,
The shark doesn’t skin its food.
The law has to abide.
We all must die.
But we pray for a quick death.
A silent death, as part of sleep,
Why then do we, as the sapient ones,
Deny that death in these feasts?
I cannot justify cruelty.
I will condemn torture.
I loved Bonzo, Diana, Rolfe and Zoe:
Lights in my life.
They burned so bright, I was happy blind;
But when one faced torture,
When their need overruled my own,
I bought an end to my blindness.
I was death. I was the dark.
And this is all that I ask for;
It is not in my power
To ask for any more:
Stop cruelty to those who cannot fight back,
Show mercy,
Be no greater than or lesser than
What you are:
Human.