Loss Poem by Aarna Dhingra

The past hurts
The past burns
And even though I keep fighting back,
It's caressing me in its loving hands

The most that I can do
Is find a photograph, or a song or two
Of things that, behind me, I left
It was my choice, one I wish I did regret

All that I can find is a ghost
Far, far away, of what I want most
Left behind the perfect life
To try and build a better one, to try and to try

It comes back to me in but a fleeting glimpse
I reach out and try to stretch, to catch it,
Yet it is but a tease, tantalising
Laughing while hungrily, I keep searching

The past is a fickle temptress,
She leaves me hints that lead me to unrest
And while I search fanatically,
She dances away, out of my reach

I growl with frustration and tug my hair
Finding a place to let my anger flare
Finding none, I turn it upon myself
And watch helplessly, The Nostalgia Shelf

I take a book down labelled "My old life"
And, afresh, is sweet love and bitter strife
I take down the book entitled "My old friends"
Snakes and loyal ones, both make my heart rend

And then I'm struck by a thought
I take down a pen and start to jot
Soon there's a big shelf standing tall
"The Greatest Things In My Life, Big And Small"

There is one thing that everyone must learn,
To make your happiness last,
You cannot cherish the present
while chasing the ghosts of your past.