Rehaan Singh writes two poems for Outlook.
She walks, walks away from the distant crowd,
The lone visage in a faceless cloud;
A glance of swift disdain hinges upon her brow,
The crowd fades away, then merges back now;
She walks, walks away from the distant crowd,
The solitary whisper of hope in a hopeless truth avowed;
She turns back to look at the steadily greying sky,
Which blackens as the day like a crippling fire dies;
She walks, walks away from the distant crowd,
The only shadow cast on the cold pavement now;
Like a wind bristling against the chimney smoke,
Her body trembles in the failing warmth of her cloak;
Still she walks, walks away from the distant crowd,
Forever trapped, trapped in the dark shadow of that crowd.
Snow creeps into the heavy, slumbering wind,
The neighbourhood doors lie stone cold and pinned;
Has Man truly sinned?
Is there place for this self-inflicted turmoil? For this moral din!
Dreams snap like frail, broken pine twigs,
The cackling fire dies, as Dusk’s light fades into the pit-less Night’s inky wig;
Is there place for a sin so spiteful, so hate-filled?
Is life an inevitable realisation of non-existent guilt?
(Rehaan Singh is a grade 12 student to whom poetry is an expression of all that he sees and feels.)