Past, like green hues, waves,
Waits, not uttering a word –
It knows how words change
If not spoken correctly
Though even silence misleads.
But the past patiently
Prefers to remain quiet
Because words, it knows,
Are engines that hurry away
Into the unknown… somewhere…
Leaving severed time
Bleeding green, yet waiting
For hustling feet to
To pay heed to what the head
Swaying backwards, tries to say
Without saying a word,
Just tilting, suggesting
Hoping that the feet
Will someday know that the pull
Is not regressive but wants
The rest of our form
To pull back, realign our life
To the harmony
Of diversity unified
Back to what was dignified.
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Arvind Passey
Written on 03 June 2022
Published by Visual Verse
