Spring That Never Came

Royal Club for Literature and Peace 

Spring That Never Came

Sanjay Singh

Spring That Never Came

The heart murmurs—half a truth, half a sigh,

its voice tangled in the cobwebs of silence.

Such strange moments bloom,

like shadows that refuse to fade at noon.

O wandering heart,

must someone hold your trembling hand

and teach you the art of stillness—

so that desires do not wake with restless eyes,

and no dream is stripped bare in shame.

On the frost-laden bed of my eyelids,

sleep the silver-winged fairies of dreams,

their breaths soft as snow,

their faces turned away from dawn.

Let the false lamps keep burning—

their golden masks hiding the ruin within,

for sometimes even lies

are the quilt we pull over our shivering souls.

Life may stand bare and deserted,

yet the world dances as if spring has arrived.

And when I bent low to ask the buds—

“Are you smiling, or are you weeping?”—

they only closed their lips tighter,

their silence heavier than truth itself.

Sanjay Singh

documentation: Waffaa Badarneh