To Quill the Mocking World

Dear Day, Why the Hurry?

By Chanda Lalwani
(3 min read)


Dear day, why the hurry?

Why is your time racing against time?

Racing against everyone else

When you’re the only one that matters?

Why are you so eager to end yourself,

To end the joy that fuels your wings?

Tripping all over yourself to fall in the pit,

The pit at the end, the endless end.

So lost that you can’t find yourself,

The hours misplaced like loose change,

The seconds running so you come first.

Selling yourself today

So you may be happier tomorrow.

Why won’t you learn from the night?

Your darker and calmer twin.

The night that obsesses over itself

And stares so long, you’d blush.

Stretching time till it’s a thin string

Waiting for me to touch it

So it may quiver and shiver in joy,

Pleasing itself every moment

In the hushed silence of its thoughts,

Swirling its fingers in black ink

Looking for stars in the darkest of times,

While you shut your eyes to the sunshine

And lock yourself up,

Behind doors that you built.

But the night isn’t a coward.

It opens itself up to the world

To every thought and emotion there is

To every fond memory there was

Of course that means some nights are sad

But that’s how vulnerability works

It soaks up the sweat between the sheets

And tears from the pillows

And passes slowly, painfully

Like a kidney stone would

But even if the air is still

It plays its own tunes

And looks as beautiful as ever

Because it is not a coward

Unlike you dear day.

Look at you running away again

Blurring the lines between living

And existing

Do you know what you’re running towards?

How would you?

Knowing needs time,

The time you don’t have,

The time you have sold,

So you may have more time tomorrow.

The time you think will be better

But it won’t.

Because tomorrow you will be running again,

And the night will quietly wait by the sides

Waiting to let its hair down again.

How do I know you ask?

It is what happened yesterday

And it will happen tomorrow

Till you fall into the pit

And disappear into the night,


Picture Credits

Soulgasm (1)

A compulsive nocturnal, Chanda is a consultant by day and a dreamer by night. Her happiness lies in chai, chitchat and chicken momos. She resorts to food for comfort, sings for joy, and occasionally acts for her fix of the stage lights. Loves watching and absorbing the world around her. And when these observations become too strong to be housed inside, she writes.

Click here to read Chanda’s posts. 

(Click here to read our first book “Mirrored Spaces” : A poetry and art anthology in English and Hindi with contributions from 22 artists)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


This entry was posted on October 29, 2016 by in Poetry and tagged .

Blog Stats

  • 99,704 times visited

Top Rated

%d bloggers like this: