Paced Life

By Leena Kadam

The ruthless breeze

Hits hard upon my face

And scatters my neat hair...

Searching for peace in the speed, as I

Try to stretch my lips to smile;

There sprouts a fear of

It being lost.

Just like

Everything else was,

Once upon a cruel time.

I watch the passing railway stations.

Some crowded

Others empty.

People in haste while some

Yet aimlessly rushing.

A few others too tired to observe

Therefore, they stand, lost gazing

Into nothingness.

Many a times, they run

To board the train that has

Already embraced speed!

Why do not they understand

The danger

That does envelope?

Getting on a train that has already set on running pace

Holds the power

To crush your life

Within seconds… Yes, it does!

Your life

Will never be yours again.

You try to board the train

With all your assumed might and strength…

Only to no avail.

And

All you will receive

Is a Loss.

A Mourning Loss!

An Irreparable Loss!

Speeding and cutting

Through the wind, I see

Tracks that run parallel

And then coincide.

And again, parallel they become.

The coinciding of the tracks

Throws confusion to the vision…

But the track that are not meant to coincide

Never Will Coincide!

The trains merrily

Swings and sways.

It spreads a feeling of fall.

Yet it holds your sturdy.

It is fun!

Such moments demand composure and stability.

To hold on with confidence, perhaps!

A hole in the earth’s belly,

A dark tunnel appears!

While entering this tunnel, the train muddles me.

Suddenly, the shades turn to shadow…

The shadow, into complete darkness.

The darkness embraces me with her murky hands

And smears over me a thick coat of fear;

Fear of the unknown!

She keeps me helplessly alert.

She preserves my eyes wide open and my senses frozen.

She springs me a sweet taste of bitter chaos;

A chaos that my senses fail to comprehend

And my brain refuses to accept.

My eyes are yet searching for...

Searching for desperately…

With prayerful lips and hope in the weakening heart...

Yet with all positivity...

Hoping radiantly against

The dry dying hopes!

They say that a dark tunnel always opens to a bright light.

However, my frightened heart stealthily wonders,

"What if the sun has already set by the time the tunnel ends?

There would only be another series of darkness to fight?

Will the heart ever trust again? Will the heart find its light again?

Or

Will the train simply halt at the end of the tunnel?

Or worse,

Will the journey abruptly end?”

By Leena Kadam