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 FrontierCountercurrentsJanata Weekly, and Culture Matters.

Featured image from Freepik.

Sutputra Radheye 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'.