Lives there no Summer
in my muse,
When hope died a scary death,
Most cruelly, before it could blossom,
Spread its wings
On the turf of life.
The remains of hope, however,
Endure, projecting images – mutilated,
Fragmented, like one
Thrown out from a crushed mirror,
Yet stringing the roots of togetherness,
From deep under the vast deadland,
Denied of optimism of a spring shower
In times coming after the lapse of the season of heat.
An eerie forbiddingness withers away
The remains – odds and ends of hope,
That of inseparability of togetherness
Being crumbled by the silence,
And aching the secret sensitivity.
In the midst, from the oblivion arises history,
Showing togetherness – the hope of it,
A future free from consolations,
As the knowledge imbued with the imagery of hope,
And empty of fear – quite like the heart of innocence!
G. Javaid Rasool lives in a small town near Lucknow. Most part of his life has wasted doing almost nothing, except earning livelihood from documentation and writing works with organisations like UNICEF, Care India, DFID, Aga Khan Foundation etc. His writings have been published in Social Scientist, Link, Times of India, Jansatta and Indian Express, besides, the websites of the ’Varsity of Columbia and WCAR (World Conference against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia & Related Intolerance).
Featured image: Lina Trochez / Unsplash