Sunday 15 July 2012

Poetry 2012 Shortlist, Neelam Harpalani

The Night Hasn't Passed By

The night is still here, as dark and as real, as it could be.
My eyes refuse to blink, to not miss a moment of any possible possibility of seeing you again.

A knock at the door and I see someone who resembles not you but the death of  hope that lives in me.
All the pages keep flipping from first to the last, and I hold myself from trying to feel the blurry lines,
My room echoes with the same old voice, that once helped me live,
And now helps me die, with more then enough for a long never ending night.

I still say "nothing happened" to anyone trying to help me, to get you out of my system,
Jus as I said "nothing happened" a million times,
when you knew there were no "nothings" between us,

The silence is maintained, not even the sighs are allowed to whisper,
The music goes on, as much as it did before, from night to dawn
And I wake up without you, with you in my eyes.

Do you still wear the same smile that lit the day for me..?
I do. I wear the same smile, to make sure when you look around,  it makes you feel nice
It makes you feel the same, it keeps you away from the pain,
And free of everything, you did to me.

I walk by the crowded streets, lost in the same lane that leads to the point, we met.
I keep looking at the kids, hoping to find the same innocence in their eyes, as I did in you,
Walk by the holy places, to feel the peace I found in you,
Hear the same verses to rekindle the faith, I had in you.
Over hear people talking about how special are they for each other, to relive our journey.

I pack and unpack, and pack gifts yet again, with a never dying urge to someday deliver it to your doorstep,
If not for what I felt for you, for the magic that changed me into someone, you said, you loved.
 My eyes hurt when we stayed up talking all night, about nothing but everything that mattered,
And My eyes hurt today, when I keep looking, and the phone does not ring.

A blink of eye, at the slightest of sound,
and my heart skips a beat, every time you don't turn around.

Love is not dead yet,
I do the daily chores and I laugh it out loud
I silently pray and  I make up stories to sustain every day,
But the night hasn't passed by.

No comments:

Post a Comment