The mud swallows me
Its the only real embrace I have ever received .
Retrospect makes me realise
That the times when my ribs rattled from
The sun still rose .
There is not enough space in memory
To remember my defeated days,
To care about my tear stained face ,
When the warmth of the rays
Were the only thing that felt like home,
The sun still set.
The times i roamed
Streets desolate of life
Devoid of hope
The big men in the glass bungalow still roared
With the joy of deceit
With the luxury of happiness
When the child next to me went to sleep in his half clad grandmas arms.
The garden where I would lie ,
Under the comfort of the oak
The one that protects me just enough to get me by,
That is where i would have liked to rest
Finally find my own little nest
When the heart would have seen all of lifes supposed zest
After I’d proceed to fail all the tests.
But here I lie – paralysed – falling asleep to confused minds clashing every night.
Maybe the light does not go off
The firefflies twinkle instead.
Back to reality
Nothing shines under the mud,
Not even the sun.
Poet Bio : Aakanksha Jha , India