Tag: poemblog

I Was Loved

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Are you in those ashes?
Were you burning in the pyre?
Can water take your essence?
Did your love submit to the fire?

As your body burnt I watched;
I could see the cancer still fight;
But wasn’t it you who stood shaking
And loved and played each night?

Who knew that night in May,
When I opened the door of that crate,
You’d make my family complete
And staunchly become my fate?

Your brother I loved;
I called him my first born son;
But how you took over the house –
How you made us run.

You ran too,
even when your limbs said no –
Your eyes shone bright,
Even when I was letting you go.

My love burnt with you in flames,
As it did with each who died before,
And I don’t know if it’s right to say:
But I will always have room for more.

Most don’t understand
How very large love can truly be:
The more it hurts the more it grows –
It bears outward to infinity.

Thank you, all of my children,
I may have shared a few years with you,
But you taught me about life and death
And to cope with a love so very true.

And though now my heart burns still,
Long after your ashes have grown cold,
And pain is a part of my life’s story
They’ll say I was loved when my tale is told.

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.

Second Night

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

A diya, a picture and ashes,
All that’s left of your life,
And the memories you made,
The love you gave, despite strife.

What’s the use of my tears
Shed now before this light?
You’ve left and I’ve failed
To keep a grip this quiet night.

I didn’t falter seeing your meds,
Or your clothes, or your food,
I laughed with Zuri and a friend –
I thought I was doing good.

But morning came and I
Turned to your ashes and face;
I saw the diya flickering,
And I collapsed without grace.

How do I know love’s here,
Though you have died?
I feel it in each sob,
In each tear I just cried.