Tag: Life

Beware

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I cannot share;
But I must care.
I cannot hope
And I must cope
With love and life,
Both smiles and strife,
With wounds and tears,
Galloping years;
With love’s disdain,
With lust, with pain,
With darkened moons,
Blistering noons,
A starless sky
No will to try,
I cannot share:
Beware. Beware.
Hope’s forsaken,
Am I taken?
The wounds are raw,
No fatal flaw,
But smiles, though rare,
Force me to dare,
So I must care,
Beware, beware.

Degenerative Myelopathy

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Each day the light grows closer,
Each day the spinal chord slows her;
All I can do for this heart of mine
Is bargain with what I hope’s divine.
I cannot appease my cold fortune,
So I just drag my heart to its tune.
I drag her on the roads she knew well,
My heart bursts, but hey, who can tell?
I see how she wishes her body could play
And I rue to see her struggle this way.
I have given death three children in pain.
After her, how will I ever love again?
She brings light into my dark life –
She is my daughter, sibling, wife.
As the light shines in the distance I know,
I will have to someday let her go.
But my heart cannot agree
To what must be, must be.
I guess this is what prayer helps with,
But I have no trust left, not a bit.
She is my heart, my heart is she
And my heart is dying silently.

Those books, those films, those stories and those songs

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Those books, those films, those stories and those songs

Convinced us how love in life belongs.

They made us sops look for it all over:

Hope to look for it in four leaf clovers.

They never mentioned what to do after –

When the tears slyly kill the laughter,

When the stars and moon blot out and die,

When we glean every one was a lie.

They never talk of love’s staying in lease,

Or of death, or of pain, or of disease;

They never mentioned how love loses faith,

How it doesn’t need another love to mate.

 

Maybe, I am to blame for I looked away,

From the books, films, songs that had this to say.

 

I realize now what love’s true nature is:

Unjust quotients of sadness and bliss,

A ruse to reproduce before you get forlorn,

With nothing to do once the kids are gone.

Of this I’m sure: after all the cheating,

Although love leaves, the heart keeps on beating.