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.
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.


Rachana December 14, 2008 at 3:26 PM  

Honestly, I don't think the poem needs any editing. It's written straight from the heart and it shows. :)

Take care.

Sharon Traynor Designs December 14, 2008 at 5:46 PM  

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.

shea holliman December 15, 2008 at 4:44 AM  

Maybe you should title it America or something like that, seems fitting, and I wouldn't change it, goes along with the feel of america, if not the entire world right now, describes the wandering spirit of modern day broken man

Maya December 15, 2008 at 12:29 PM  

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

Chhaya December 15, 2008 at 1:22 PM  

@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 :)

Wondering Wanderer December 16, 2008 at 2:09 PM  

Very moving poem.
One of your best !!

A1 December 16, 2008 at 10:21 PM  

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


John December 23, 2008 at 8:58 AM  

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.

L. Venkata Subramaniam December 25, 2008 at 7:21 PM  

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.

Anonymous,  December 30, 2008 at 7:51 AM  

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~

Anonymous,  January 15, 2009 at 4:04 PM  

Hi chhaya,
the pain always reflects so clearly in ur post..dunno wat to say...just take care ...Miss u

Pete May 19, 2009 at 6:18 PM  

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.


Opaque June 29, 2009 at 11:46 AM  

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!!!

Chhaya June 29, 2009 at 12:02 PM  

@Brosreview - this poem is indeed very personal.. i tried to capture it like a snapshot..
thanks for the kind words :)

D.Dasgupta August 7, 2009 at 1:12 PM  

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.


Chhaya January 18, 2010 at 4:38 PM  

@Deep da : there was no way i cud put a bright side to this poem :(

RAJ47 January 18, 2010 at 7:48 PM  

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’.

Lisa January 18, 2010 at 11:51 PM  

Wow. Your soul was in this, and my soul felt it. Deeply moving, greatly written.

Chhaya January 19, 2010 at 3:32 PM  

@Sorcy, Lisa : thanks :)

Chhaya January 19, 2010 at 3:35 PM  

@RAJ : there are many layers to this poem.. i m glad u found so many :)

itsyvitsy January 19, 2010 at 5:38 PM  

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. :-)

Brian Miller January 19, 2010 at 8:04 PM  

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.

Vikram Kumar January 23, 2010 at 6:03 PM  

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 .. Do check it out in your leisure time.


Tan January 26, 2010 at 11:01 PM  

Hi Chhaya,
Read some of your poems. Good work!!!

You have been awarded and tagged in my blog.

Chhaya January 27, 2010 at 9:02 AM  

@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 :)

Chhaya January 27, 2010 at 9:04 AM  

@Brain : thanx :)

@Vikram : i have been away and busy so wasnt able to reply till now. will visit ur blog today :)

Chhaya January 27, 2010 at 9:05 AM  

@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 :)

Anonymous,  February 15, 2010 at 10:30 PM  

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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