I wish a happy new year to all my readers. This is written more to see the last year off than to welcome the next. I wonder what else is going to change except the last digit of the year from 5 to 6.
Dedicated to Kunal Thakore,
for his inspirations and poetry
Is it another year
or the old calendar
or another assortment of faces,
piercing through the shield of my heart
that made me fall upon
the thorns of life and bleed?
Did it have just twelve months or a few more?
Never bled so much in my life, before!
Never thought an old man like me
could harbor so much blood inside!
Twelve months back it began
with a sour string that stung like a curved hook,
as I tried to swim across the ocean
of existence, in wild tumult!
But the shore that I saw
was but a mirage, a false hope!
So the land vanished and the string
tore apart my flesh, blood and skin!
I was seething with a rage that almost
made me lose my life too!
Still I rose and stood up
on my broken feet and bones,
spread my broken wings to embrace
the looming second half!
When it came, it turned out to be
no less cruel than the first,
too shallow and selfish,
too engrossed in its looks and whims!
Thus the year traversed until the last month,
when Polaris began
shining bright on the sky,
letting me steer my way back home,
yet still I bleed, not from the pain
but for being what I am!
So I embrace myself and urge the year to come,
for that is our lot for sure, we poets have to burn!