Do judge my art, my heart.
It was our love that bloomed
In verse,
We share copyright
For better and for worse.
And as long as I’m not banned,
I’ll even hold your hand,
As you scythe and rip and rend
This offering of my heart, my heart.
So be cruel and critical and fierce,
There’s great value to your fears
That I evoke.
I invoke in my prayers,
That we communicate,
And go so deep into my words
They begin to pixelate,
And right there among all the dots
Lies my bleeding heart, my heart.
But for now I know
You are holding my words away,
Far away from you,
So you may read them clearly
And retort so cleverly,
I’m put in my place
On the opposite bank.
You’re are right and I’m left
Separated by a
A river in spate
Stranded by the fate
Of our choices,
And our garbled voices
Drowning in the deafening
But your hate, my heart
Will bridge the expanse
And I will walk to you
Again and again
With my offerings.
They may be poor,
Puffed rice for a King.
But perhaps just once
You’ll see my love, my heart
And not just my politics.

© Hema Gopinathan Sah 2018

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