Hemant Bawankar
☆ Time… ☆ Hemant Bawankar ☆
People say –
time is a great ointment
that heals
large wounds.
However,
over the years
I don’t know
Why are not healing
my heart’s wound
why that drips
constantly ….
Is it so because?
I’m living
in present
with nostalgia
with the false expectation
that
sometimes
these wounds will be healed
that
were given by my loved ones
or
I had only ever given
to myself.
It is true that-
time never halts
it slips
like sand slips
from the fists
and
life does not happen again
still we watch dripping wounds
of loved ones
in relation to each other
even though
none raises their hands
to heal the lesions.
Maybe
all mouths are stitched
all hands are tied
with the ego that –
why should I be the first?
(This poem has been cited from my book “The Variegated Life of Emotional Hearts”.)
© Hemant Bawankar
Pune
