Evening Tea
Time for reflection and introspection
An old diary in my hands,
Some drafts of the past to be reviewed and polished.
Flapping pages tell a story-
A frisson of grief descended my spine.
Truth dawned through its pages:
Part of me has died of hatred-
Incinerated in isolation
on a piece of some waste land
that did not parallel a burning-ghat,
After being tired of waiting on the pyre of apathy
and of competing with colossal piles of other selves
for dignity, for space, for attention
And for a decent goodbye.
Part of me is ripped to shreds:
Dumped on the sandy shores of time,
with sand beneath it slipping away
into waters of timelessness
mocking at this makeshift structure.
A stony marker beside.
Hungry predators clustered around
and tore me into several pieces,
feasting brazenly on me
for extracting dues I never owed.
Part of me is discarded:
washed away in swift currents
of the pristine swollen waters;
Floated downstream along with cremains
towards some unfathomable distant horizon
in search of peace and calmness,
Separated from me as if
it were one of my greatest sins.
Part of me has died of abhorrence,
And of human indifference,
Leaving the ghost of lifeless drafts in my diary,
Part of me I could not revive in my rewriting.
Copyright ©️ 2021 Vipanjeet Kaur- VJ Poetic Musings

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