my Poetry – Page 52 – Hearts Still Care

@DylanRages

Published on December 22, 2019April 24, 2021 by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I stopped playing a game
and went on to twitter:

I saw hunters paying to shoot
a defenceless critter;
there was freedom, pinned down,
and protests, and chanting;
faiths seemed to be tweeting,
so much noise, such ranting;
videos of poor souls beaten,
forced to silence their voice,
in this scientific world,
there was no question of choice;
women raped and murdered,
courts of law with no power,
children locked on borders,
Rapunzel dead in her tower;
impeachments were suspect,
they all seem beguiling,
the rising of fascism,
people I love smiling;
worlds were split asunder,
icebergs weak enough to turn,
glaciers bursting like thunder,
forests continuing to burn…

I remembered what I’d learnt
about the dying of the light –
how young we were then, Dylan
To be thankful for this sight.

I rage as much as I can,
Struggling to stay the same –
My tired heart needs to breathe,
So, I return to my game

Each Drop (Part Two)

Published on July 30, 2019July 31, 2019 by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I have lived, years without you now;
Water and wind, move fast, move past;
Everything is mutable here,
Abstract or concrete, nothing lasts.

The monsoon winds are strong
And I remember you wet in rain.
You left – them, long ago;
But here they are wetting everything again.

I’m lying in bed,
Thousands of minutes away,
And remaining here,
Think of the gods who cast me away.

I heard a song, that reminded me
Of the way you turned to look at me,
And I cried a bit – maybe more –
Remembering all we used to be.

Now, my darling, I’m not afraid.
There is no fear of living or dying;
Because it’s just a road, taking me
To the place, where you’ll be lying

In wait, with all the rest who went before
To become the value of this life –
Who will profess how well I lived
And vouch for each drop of love and strife.

That’s what it all comes down to:
This journey traversing me and you:
A meeting, a distance and a gate
And all that’s eventually true.

If not, I have, yet, nothing to fear:
There won’t be a calling back…
I’ll give voice to wind and heart to water,
And fade upon the stars dressed in black.