What an odd quest it is
to tell and retell,
tales already told,
songs already sung
and claim lordship?

People don't own stories.
They exist as the universe does.
They were here before we arrived
and they'll be here long
after we're gone.

But like with the world,
we believe it exists solely for us.
So, we use and abuse,
Tell and retell,
Tales already told,
Songs already sung,
And give ourselves
The comfort of meaning.

Grief is parasitic, like a barnacle

that latches onto the skin of its host,

It lives inside you, growing and gnawing,

It finds a home in the deepest trenches

of your heart and sits quietly, mostly.

Ever so often, rearing its head

and pulling at the strings

you thought you had exhausted.

Grief is narcissistic, like a Greek huntsman

Who falls in love with his own reflection,

Bringing with it, a melancholia that

Resides in the crevices of your core,

Enkindling at moments unlikely.

What is it about grief and its capo

That silences the clamour of the

Very strings that contain it?

Photo by Tim Goedhart on Unsplash

My mind's tempest
takes over like a
cloud occupying the
skies.

My heart's furore
stomps at its walls
like a caged bird
tries.

My blood's racing
against the voices
in my head. I can
hear my heart's
cries.

In the eye of the
storm, solace is
found in the slowness
of inhaling hope and
unburdening my self
of its dreamed
lies.

Photo by Giammarco Boscaro on Unsplash

Let us not forget
the errors of yore when
we knew not better
and had faults aplenty,
Let us not forget
the tales of yesteryear writ
when we lived and learned,
Let us not forget
wars bygone when men
and women fought and lost
and won and died.

Words live when people die
standing stoicly by,
as the issue of its writer
continues to wage new wars
when the old ones are still
not cold. Stop!

Look into
the closest pages and see,
every thing you are about to do,
someone already did,
every lesson you set out to learn,
someone already learned,
and every fight you are going to fight,
someone already won and someone
else already lost.

©️ Aakanksha Monga 2020

Aakanksha

I'm a teacher and a writer. My life runs on my love for literature and poetry and music and cinema.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store