The Last Bus
Monday, January 18, 2010
Standing barefoot.
Barren, huge crossroad.
They say it stops here,
the bus you are on.
Clutching, the doll you gave me
on my birthday the year before.
I try not to stain it –
for my hands are
bleeding from the sores.
knees skinned to the bones shake a little
cruel, lonely it was –
the road from home.
Biting my lips, to stall the pain
burying my face in the doll –
there is still that smell of you
the fragrance of safety,
the mirage of childhood.
Inhaling,
just a bit.
Too greedy to save it all.
It starts to rain
and I feel so cold.
Proud, defying – waiting.
I stand my ground
not for victory but to
hide my shame.
The tears
drown me a bit more.
There is nothing left,
even my shadow is impure.
Its getting darker
the birds are all gone.
I watch other kids, just like me but –
jumping all the way to their homes.
Some stand and stare at my rags
laughing at my doll.
Mock my dirty feet -
but my eyes, they all ignore
And then I am left alone,
at the crossroads
just like the evening before.
I am scared now–
wont you come back for me?
the last bus from heaven,
doesn’t stop here anymore?
Barren, huge crossroad.
They say it stops here,
the bus you are on.
Clutching, the doll you gave me
on my birthday the year before.
I try not to stain it –
for my hands are
bleeding from the sores.
knees skinned to the bones shake a little
cruel, lonely it was –
the road from home.
Biting my lips, to stall the pain
burying my face in the doll –
there is still that smell of you
the fragrance of safety,
the mirage of childhood.
Inhaling,
just a bit.
Too greedy to save it all.
It starts to rain
and I feel so cold.
Proud, defying – waiting.
I stand my ground
not for victory but to
hide my shame.
The tears
drown me a bit more.
There is nothing left,
even my shadow is impure.
Its getting darker
the birds are all gone.
I watch other kids, just like me but –
jumping all the way to their homes.
Some stand and stare at my rags
laughing at my doll.
Mock my dirty feet -
but my eyes, they all ignore
And then I am left alone,
at the crossroads
just like the evening before.
I am scared now–
wont you come back for me?
the last bus from heaven,
doesn’t stop here anymore?
© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled
I wrote this poem more than a year back. I didn’t have enough readers back then so I am re-posting it.
28 comments:
Honestly, I don't think the poem needs any editing. It's written straight from the heart and it shows. :)
Take care.
Oh, that is so moving! All the way through I wondered what had happend to the little child to be in such a desperate state. Such a sad poem, but beautifully written.
Sharon
very well written, very dark, full of visualizations.
i dont understand one thing "the doll you gave me on my birthday the year before"
what is it related to, why birthday? and why the year before?
and the title "last bus" is very apt, just perfect
@Maya -
its actually very very personal, hence too tough to explain.
the doll is actually a symbol, a symbol of responsibility. the "on my birthday the year before" symbolizes the re-birth of the kid into someone who was forced to grow up too soon...
hope it makes more sense now.
thanx for liking the poem :)
Very moving poem.
One of your best !!
I try to not say too much..forced to comment :) editing will ruin the flow, more polish less meat.. hmmm
glad to see the muse has not left yet >> a pleasure thou art, to read to know and to cherish
A1
I feel as I am there with you. It is written with personal flair. This does not need editing. You can add to it with another poem later, but you should leave this one as is. It tugs at the heartstrings as the cliche goes.
amazing how you have gotten a reader like me into the skin of the character. I think i see her everyday -- at the crossroads near my home.
i like this poem... it feels somber and solemn... as if living a life through pain, yet seeking warmth, familiarity, and compassion... it also has a feel of the after-life to it as well... u captured the feeling well~
Hi chhaya,
the pain always reflects so clearly in ur post..dunno wat to say...just take care ...Miss u
A lovely poem Chhaya.
Very tight and sensory. It carries the mystery of why you are bleeding though there is a bus.
It is not fully resolved - thats always more realistic about life.
Pete
The pain is elaborated in great depth here. You help us feel the character Chhaya. I could visualise the entire piece right before my eyes.
Also, I reckon, this has that personal touch to it. So, this, to me, is some very good writing.
Keep them coming!!!
@Brosreview - this poem is indeed very personal.. i tried to capture it like a snapshot..
thanks for the kind words :)
Dear Chhaya:
It's very good. But as always, it's dark too. Sometimes I feel too depressed after reading your poems. This is not a criticism, just shows that you have a powerful style.
But I am weak, far too weak. Weak and frail.
DD
@Deep da : there was no way i cud put a bright side to this poem :(
well written.
good one!
Hi Chhaya,
Indeed a very beautifully written poem. Thanks for reposting, otherwise I would never have got a chance to read it.
These losses are very personal and difficult to share. Only those who have lost someone very close in their childhood can really feel the pain, others try to explain.
You brought tears to my eyes. Thanks again.
On delving deeply within myself, I felt the fragrance of safety in fact is a reality and not a mirage. The dolls always try to find this safety in their ‘owners’.
Wow. Your soul was in this, and my soul felt it. Deeply moving, greatly written.
@Sorcy, Lisa : thanks :)
@RAJ : there are many layers to this poem.. i m glad u found so many :)
At first sight I had the feeling that this piece was capturing the mental trauma of a sexually abused girl. If one reads the depictions as a physical description it comes out that way and indeed it is powerful as well. The helplessness, the embarrassment comes strongly.
On second reading, however, I could see (of course, a little aided by external explanations ;-)) that there is guilt. An inner voice that keeps telling, "I tried. But I did not try enough." The accusatory voice not ceasing to traumatize the already broken heart. If I see the rain as an excuse to hide the guilt, the nightfall as the gloom within and the dirty feet as a sign of running away from the non-existent accusations the guilt can be seen profoundly.
My heart goes out to the soul here. I can feel her pain. I wish she can get out of it and move on.
Since, I know, this is personal, appreciation is not what you are looking for, neither is sympathy. So, God bless you. :-)
quite stunning in the barren emotions...the feeling of being left behind and missing out is what i get from it. sad to be left standing at that crossroads.
Hi, Chhaya.
This is my first time in this blog. And I should say my visits to this blog is not going to stop with this.
The poem was very saddening. The emotions are very raw and delicately put forward.
It conveys a lot of emotions.
Nice one!
I blog at http://findvikki420.blogspot.com/ .. Do check it out in your leisure time.
Cheers.
Hi Chhaya,
Read some of your poems. Good work!!!
You have been awarded and tagged in my blog.
@Vittal - this poem is one of my favorites.. and as we talked about it, it has many layers.. some of which even i am unaware of :)
@Brain : thanx :)
@Vikram : i have been away and busy so wasnt able to reply till now. will visit ur blog today :)
@Tan : :D
i hardly ever get tagged by anyone.. and this one u have given is too difficult for me to cover.. still, i will do it :)
thnx Hon :)
i am speechless..your poem ..sprouted some mixed strange feelings in me.....btw while going through your blog i realised you are like me to an extent although i am not a writer ..Loner yet not Lonely :)..great blog !
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