Where the streets have no name
We all look the same,
Where strangers meet and sing together
Dispossessed of their souls…
Each soul, with an incandescent halo
Ferried across, one after another
Inside wrought- iron wheelbarrows
That move on their own...
A slow rickety plodding pace,
On their three skewed wheels,
And balancing your soul
To across scratched and smoothened
Counters...
Deposit you, upon the shelves
Of a pawn shop...
A one time stop,
Where innocence is mortgaged
So innocently you know,
That a dream, odd and surreal
Such as this,
Would have you believe
An earlier arrival
In this town, without hope,
Would have drowned your pain
In a flood of ecstasy.
Oh here,
Where the streets have no name…
We all look the same.
We look just the same
But for a difference
In the way
We spell out our shame
Like in a wallet
With a card on an exorbitant credit
Just some odd coins remain,
To ring out our net muffled worth
With the dampness of a sweat:
Nothing more or less...
For the utter labour
Of lugging our soulless worth,
Does call out for one virtue
Of all that remains,
In bits and pieces, to be proffered
For what is essentially a game
Whose rules we apotheosize
To suit but our needs
At that given moment,
Like counseling to creeps
That we really are
Just below skin deep...
Though bleached shining white
But in actual, all black sheep.
So sweetheart,
Why in utter disbelief,
And full of regrets,
With a tear in your eye
And such a sigh in your breath...
Hold to a lost realm
When like a child at night
You bawled out in tears
To a mom to return
From the woods,
Of your fears.
Why, tell me, why
Beseech that angel with the wings
Who, over these streets
Without a name
Should sweep down sometime
In some midnight dream
To shower old joys amiss
And refurbish your faith
Like a gentle rain
That cools down your cheek
When even tears have dried up,
To leave their tell tale stains.
Your fortitude, your beauty
Your grace and your poise
That angel is you
Left without a choice
Your wings of gossamer
Soft like a breeze
Glitter and shimmer,
Wherever you be...
And fly you should
Ever so high
Over streets, nameless
With mortgaged souls
Your love is needed
Ever so more…
In this indifferent town
Where the streets have no name.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem