Tag: Death

Tilikum

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I never knew, I never knew,
The pain of being torn from my mother,
At the age of two.

I couldn’t say what I would feel,
If I had a home of hunger,
Made of still water and steel.

I cannot fathom to analyse,
The hour upon hour of work,
Amid raucous human cries.

You flip, wave, splash and turn,
While the audience roars,
While for decades you burn.

They take your penis and your sperm,
They scour your mind and your heart,
They leave you bitter and infirm.

I have seen the wild, the wild,
In cold seas, under violent skies,
In the innocence of a child.

My heart breaks; for I know,
Being what nature made me,
What should be just so.

Do you yearn for who knows where?
There is but little earth left to you,
The oceans themselves are despair.

If God exists, you are the sin,
You became legion,
You, with your collapsed dorsal fin.

Vow

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I have taken you these fifteen years hence
To be whatever it is we have here:
A lover, spouse, friend, brother, recompense –
To have and hold so infinitely near.

I have taken you when poor and when rich,
Revelled in your health and embraced you sick,
I’ve ignored your eye, unravelled each glitch,
I have brought you love and I made it stick.

From that September, to this day forward,
I’ve taken your better, suffered your worse,
I’ve fought against despair; I’ve been your ward
And trekked through many a wish and a curse.

I persist to offer this ruined heart,
‘Til death doth, consenting, force it to part.

Burn

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

If there comes a time when I feel no more,
Put fire to my flesh in haste.
There will not be any reason in store
To appear modest or chaste.

The songs would have been defunct by then,
Romances would be long dead;
Indubitably count inward till ten,
Think of your new life instead.

You won’t even think twice of me once done,
No turning back at the gate!
You have had your fill, my share of the fun:
Of my smiles, my time, my fate.

The fire won’t need you, once it has been lit,
Who’ll need you later who’d know.
When the bones grow chalky cold in a bit,
Come back to end the last show.

Take the ashes and cast them to the sea,
Just end to futurity.
Finite end, make sure there be:
To the fire, to us and me.