Have this wont of going profound. Can’t help it! There is this poetic side of me, which slows down on an amazing quote, remembers the emotional bit, and captures the heartfelt in everything life offers. So that the beauty of poetry never ceases, I have decided to tag along another category into my blog and call it ‘Unsung Poetry‘.
The poet in me was never dead. It just went on a hiatus. Now that I have decided to keep throwing in bits of poetry hither and thither into the newly created label, I think I will resurrect my writing habits. That way my leaflets would be brimming with stuff to read.
The first one is the most recently penned bit which I have decided to kick-start this project with. Empathy runs wild in my veins, and I can’t help slip into someone’s skin to perceive pain. The poem is dedicated to one of my truest friends and it runs on his recent turn of traumatic and agonizing events, and for his appalling loss I wept like a cloud in excruciating angst. Written from his perspective:
My Grief Isn’t Yours to Take
What makes you cry, O weary eye?
Nothing lost you have,
You still have a life,
Mine’s taken away.
Why do you croon for my loss?
This void, I have to bear,
The pain is mine, this angst is mine,
Why do you even care?
Why weep in blood?
Why feel my pain?
Why take my shoes?
And soil my rain?
Why find you gutters?
Thy soul still flutters!
You can soar quite high,
Your wings hath flight.
Your face has a smile,
Your soul has a heart,
Your limbs can talk.
Still, why do you seek my bruises?This woe isn’t yours,
This dead all mine.
Why do you shower more than my eyes?
You lost nothing!The truth in your orbs
Bothers my grief,
I am still not over this lie
Called life.
Why do you take it away?
My agony has just begun.
Let me fade with it,
I wish not to stay.
The world has just ended.
This sorrow isn’t yours to take.
Don’t feel my misery!
It’s all mine to make.
Don’t wash it away with your tears.
I will cry till my rivers dry.
And leave me barren
And lifeless.
Just let me be!
Don’t feel for me,
Is all I ask.
Just let me wither away.
I wail for heeding ears
That aren’t deaf.
Now I weep for mercy,
So the dead might come awake.
