Tag: hsc285

Okay

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

Everyday people ask
“How are you?”
And I say,
“I am okay.”
I mention my body.
No broken bones.
No Covid-19.
No cancer.
Intact.

The inside of my heart though,
I wonder if I can talk about it.
Myocardium.
It’s said to be the thickest.
It has to be.
It houses abstractions.
Raw, mind-numbing wounds:
The fear of a future.
The betrayal of promises.
The neglect of hope.
The presence of love.
The sounds of monsoon birds
Silenced by “it’s not you, it’s me”.
Sensitive, burning, bloody
Awe
Of those who move on.

That part –
That part is not okay.
Every breath serrates it.
Like ice on a chipped tooth.
Like wires under nails.

But I can’t say this.
So, everyday,
I say, I am okay.

Shirt Sleeves

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Maybe it is in the nature of love
To fall away like autumn leaves;
Yet I wonder before you step out now,
Who helps you roll up your shirt sleeves.

I reckon you can live all by yourself
And you no longer need love’s aid.
When spring whispers in after winter dies,
Maybe then fears shall be unmade.

Now, as the rain falls and memory cries,
I remember enough to mourn,
And, in a darkened corner, my heart tries
To piece back life this love has torn.

Past

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The past has smiles
And we remember those;
It also holds tears
That it does not disclose;

Or maybe we see
What we want to see;
And think of the sadness
As probability.

If recalled joy mixed
With sadness and pain,
Then we would look on
The past with a new refrain:

We like to think of it
As lovely, and yet, gone;
And that’s what makes
All of the present forlorn.

Tear off the rose glasses
And see all of it true,
Then maybe the past
Can let the future renew.