– Alisha Mehra
The cyclone gushes past me
Someone said it’s safest near the eye
How hard is it to see
That we’re too caught up to stop by?
I see things at a great speed
I see a few people, too
I ponder upon their predicament
Of what they think is the truth
I laugh at them, I cry for them
Is this what they call life
Doing the same things again
And giving it a name, ‘strife’
So is this strife within themselves
Or has it strained the world
Consoling them of what might be
Another curse
I ask them what they see me doing
They answer the obvious
They see me whirling around
In a cyclone of my fears
But isn’t my vulnerability that has allowed me
To see past the goals
Of what they incur on me
At the cost of the unknown
They laugh these things off
Call out my subterfuge
I feel sorry for my deeds
Because I failed to rob of them of their refuge
What they call a home is essentially a deception
A deception to mask their cowardice
To finally enter into
An unending cycle of avarice
So who’s to feel sorry for whom
Me, lost in the storm?
Or them who failed to comprehend
That they were never born?
Design by Vasuki
Article 19 