Tag: pain

Goodnight

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I sit by your picture in the mornings;
And keep my vigil by the light’s burning;
My mind gives my body quiet warnings,
But they both succumb to my heart’s yearning.
I watched over you in your final days:
Keeping your tumours dry and your eyes wet;
Though cancer has its insidious ways,
Its horrors could not make my love forget.

I’ve your ashes in a pot, atop flowers;
So I may yet sit with this part of you.
I know the sea will claim this too, in hours;
But no power can take my love from you.
I shall, in time, not softly cry at night;
But now, sweet girl, I just bid you good night.

Minutes & Hours

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Hours and minutes, minutes and hours –
My anxiety ticks and has me game;
The controller controls my mind,
For a while, I lose your name.

It’s dangerous to run this loop,
But grief has come to stay;
I act out in ways I never liked –
But I can’t rail at the sky and pray.

So I address death on my own terms;
I know well to look him in the eye;
Not weeping, I set up a funeral;
Because a lifetime is left to cry.

A dog’s heart fails to understand
Either your death, life, pictures or flame;
Yet she reminds me of smiles ahead,
With no hint of anxiety or shame.

So the hours drag on in memory,
Marking moments I can’t forget;
It’s a different grief and anxiety –
Untouched by regret.

The pyres are burnt and done now,
Releasing the tears into moon rivers;
The fortunate have done with their crying,
While exhaustion leaves me in shivers.

Funeral tears and mourning wails,
Cascade a torrent into life’s sea;
And some tears are dammed for later,
When there will be more of death to be.

My Brave Daughter, My Gentle Son

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

The week passed;
Yet it feels you just left.
Your presence filled our home
Now it feels bereft.

The pigeons coo at the window –
I can’t tell you to shoo them off.
It was your calling –
Now they fly in to roost.

The house is asleep –
Even Zuri leaves me for bed.
You would stay –
For the slightest sound
Made you raise your head.

A protector – and mine by choice –
Your small black face with me –
Your eyes sharp and vibrant –
Untouched by duplicity.

The house is silent with you gone;
You have found Zach somewhere –
You’re both happy together –
Leaving our home bare.

Grief has robbed my sense of time
And I still say “my kids” instead of one –
Zuri misses your bossiness
And how you’d make her run.

Heart heavy, eyes swollen, brain numb –
And if I smile, I cannot forget
My brave daughter, my gentle son.