There is a tunnel
Where there is no light
There is a sky
Where there is no kite
There is a house
Where the woman cries
There is a street
Where a man just dies
There is a field
Where no one plays anymore
There is a bookstore
Where no one opens the door
There is a hospital
Where doctors never show up
There is a school
Where only ferns grow up
There is a hand
That no one holds onto
There is a face
Where eyes haven’t gone to
There is a gun
That keeps shooting for fun
There is a pen
That spits bloody truth son
There is a chimney
That burns the hammers along
There is a motor
That runs over flowers young
There is a truth
That hides behind walls of lie
There is a heart
That lives for the time to die
There is a breath
That seeks for words like freedom
There is a love
That has diffused to be dumb
I ain’t singing a song
That pleases your ears anymore
I am singing for spring
That might not come, anymore
Where are those good old days?
Will they ever be here, anymore?
Sutputra Radheye is a poet and commentator from Assam. He has written on cultural and political issues for several publications, such as Frontier, Countercurrents, Janata Weekly, and Culture Matters.
Featured image from Freepik.
is a poet and commentator from Assam. He has written on cultural and political issues for several publications, such as Frontier, The Quint, Countercurrents, Janata Weekly, and Culture Matters.
