Is that mighty hand with a will so strong

Turning pages, unbiased to happy and sad

Dragging us with no rest from wake to death


Your mighty hand familiar but not welcome

I rebel, drowning fears of what’s to come in wine

To no avail, for tomorrow comes right on time


In your hands I transformed caterpillar to butterfly

And also saw corpses dear burnt in a pyre

To love or hate I’ve figured not


‘Why is this the way it is?’

But you drag on mute expressionless

Leaving me with no choice but to accept


My mother, she says in reassurance-

‘That, that created time

Also us. We’ll be taken care of’


Time, I’ll leave it to you in surrender

Opening you to the bird in my heart

Give her the strength to sing through feast and famine.

P.S. Featured image by Denis Sarazhin.

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