Straight ahead I walked,
Stopping once to turn.
It was getting all blurred,
Like a gathering wisp of smoke.
I slowly walked,
more and more away from the bus.
I could feel the leaking sand
through my fingers;
these memory grains.
But I cannot save it
I have to let him go.
Back in a rickshaw
My blurred eyes caught the city’s sadness;
sadness that usually floats above
for our heavy accustomed eyes.
A man pulling a cart murmuring to himself,
A loner sitting on the sidewalk
A lady staring into nothingness near the mosque.
I passed them all in a second
But at the signal, the lady caught my eyes.
Our eyes spoke the same language
Language of bitterness that we felt
mine harder to swallow
and her’s harder to digest.
Yet our eyes saw the equal;
the pain and tears
that each of us bore.
The signal turned green,
the rickshaw moved
And I sat there drowned
In my own emotions
making me a part of these millions;
the millions that are crying out silently,
in million trains, taxis, buses and trams
at that very minute, at that very second.
spottypotterson 