U left my colors.
And s was kicked out of romanticizing.
I recall love songs from a time
before 9/11 broke America’s heart.
In that archive,
remember to put mm before dd.
Even as we’ve waited years
for the permission to exhale.
Tiny hands bleeding on barbed wires.
Purple flowers next to mounds of cement.
Sliding down large, shiny boulders.
Making memories: the realization that life
moves in one direction,
and one day, you might want to return to this, here.
Meanwhile,
How little I believe in the lyrics
that would fill my chest with yellow amaltas.
Can the present compete
with unfulfilled yesterdays
and cursed tomorrows?
Things get so tough
Fighting the undone and the done again.
Of course,
You have the right to remain silent,
The right to leave.
What if I want to speak?
What if I’d like to stay?
What I’d really like though,
is to sit down on a bench,
somewhere between all and nothing.
Because it’s spreading to the lungs,
This future we weren’t promised.
And there are no proverbs yet,
about apples that fall far from the tree.
21.03.2024/VDS
Vyoma 