Carrying on

I think about my pain and self-loathe,
the hurt’s authentic but the loathing’s
abominable like the shrieks of a spoiled
child who doesn’t get his way. Who said
life is fair? Who said we’re supposed to
think in black and white only? Who said
life is beautiful even? These are idealistic,
pseudo-adages like rag cloths serving as
bandages.

The sun dims and the moon highlights
her dominance, but we carry on.
The dead lie and the parade speaks
once of them, a garish show of
affection before we carry on.
The pugilist is down, the crowd cries
when they see a winning streak broken,
but then they carry on.

And that’s pretty much your grounding,
your therapy or your prescription –
carrying on, come ebb or flow,
come beauty or dirt,
come raucousness or elegance.

© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)

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11 Comments

    1. Thank you so much Rulla. I write what I feel strongly about and I’m thankful for readers like you who resonate with what I have to offer.

  1. Yes, the crowd loves a winner.
    Time and tide like a meat grinder.
    Jesus hung out with the lepers,
    sinners and grinners.
    Beauty in the blue sky of the finder.

    1. Thank you so much for such a beautiful comment. It really moved me. I have known people who struggled with and beat cancer and my words encouraging you and helping you fight the dying light just both breaks me and makes me happy. Never give up my friend. And this blog was inspired by this villanelle which I think we all must do: https://m.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/do-not-go-gentle-good-night I think he’ll inspire you much more than I ever did. Thank you again. I’m very humbled.

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