You ask, ‘what if I am not there tomorrow’,
The words hang in midair,
Unsaid yet understood,
In anger I lash out,
Not knowing why you wouldn’t be there tomorrow...
Now, I am not made of clay,
I wouldn’t melt or break,
Neither the tears will fill a bucket,
Nor the pain will shake my faith,
But a heart hammered to the wall,
Can only beat for so long.
Maybe the burial shall interest you,
Away from the crowd,
Will be the ‘lovers grave’,
Not a soul to mourn the demise,
Or burn a candle in their name,
Everyone got left behind,
In the rush to possess,
See the irony,
You weren’t there in the first place.
Togetherness is not on a piece of paper,
Or the loving words that fall from your mouth,
It’s the sweetness that fills me,
Even when you are not around.
3 comments:
Wow!!! such a beautiful poem!! U've been written about in Femina as well..yet I wonder why do u remain a 'lesser known poet'?? even after having published a book in ur name too.
Very beautiful Ismita.. Glad I stopped..
Someone is Special
@Aakriti, thank you so much! Its always a delight to read such wonderful comments about certain poems...one tends to be partial :)
And publishing a book is just the begining of a long, arduous journey...need my strength and poetry does just that. thank you for stopping by!
@SiSpl you are welcome :)
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