Poems

Still there is hope

Sue the side of the thoughts of the mind

that make you think that death is the only option.

Mind you, the mind mines the emotions

like minerals and copper,

wondering whether to slit the wrist

or stop her,

for all she feels is pain, hurt,

heartache and tears.

Crop the pain and turn it into purpose.

We can push her to try again at life,

if she lets us.

Paste possibilities,

like remaking the sword Narsil, forged in fire,

for her existence is power.

Her thoughts run like pain through her veins.

Her hurt is not vain,

but real, as her emotions spin

like a wind vane of different options.

You do not feel what she feels.

How can you possibly understand

how she has to wear skin of steel

to survive?

Would you like to know how real

the steel of her pain is,

how deeply it goes into the roots

of her thoughts:

“ifs, buts and maybes”?

As she steals moments

to try to control the breathing

caused by the quaking of her aches.

Pull back the veil of smiles

she shows every day.

Take a moment to listen

to the songs her eyes mourn.

For deep down she is torn,

like bits of paper,

pieces of her falling apart

as she tries to tape them back together.

For still she thinks

there is hope.

Still wondering whether to put

her neck through the noose of the rope,

as hopelessness wraps itself around,

around her throat.

Yet she waits.

Wonders.

And wills strength into being.

As faith, hope, love and God tell her:

“You still have more to give.

You’re stronger than you think.

Don’t ever stop trying.

Don’t give up.”

– Appolonia Hall

# # #

Friends?

I looked forward to friendship,

But you let me down.

You thought life was like

A circus and I would dance

To your tune, play the clown.

You stood me up at a party

And stole my books and goods.

When confronted, you argued

Endlessly over ifs, buts, and shoulds.

You acted like a big brother,

Playing the city slicker, wise

Guy, and smart aleck, all in one.

Your manipulative tactics trapped

Me in an ocean of sorrow and I

Started to see no hope for tomorrow.

Now, however, we are older and wiser

And travel by different roads: for me,

It is a pleasant surprise

To unburden this heavy load.

We were always different and

Poles apart. Our friendship

Is history: it is time for us

To make a brand, new start.

– Archan Mehta