(Image from the front-page of The Telegraph, Kolkata 11.02.2020)

First thing this morning she blew me away

Broke me into tears. 

The desperation on her face

Mingled with my years. 

What is my life? What have I done? 

And who cares 

About my sterile dreams? 

Privileged, predicated 

A stranger to real hardship

I go about professing

My inflated importance, 

While she rages against the storm. 

She too is just a woman

With dreams she dares fight for 

With all her fears high and proud

Riding upon her bared soul

She gives of herself as I never have

I never have needed to

Will she succeed, will I stand up

As she rides astride the jealous night? 

I stare quietly at her again 

Etched in my heart, a debt

A debt I surely cannot repay

As she rages against the storm. 

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Choten says:

    …. that feeling. 🥺


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