I search




for something

to believe in

I hold on

to strands

of a memory

of a minute

I hold on

to little nothings

like a beggar would

hold on to

a God who’s

been very unkind

I repeat you

like verses from

a sacred hymn

Over and over

in my mind

I preach and practice

you like a religion

unwilling to accept me

in its arms

I run around,

my arms flailing,

Godless, religionless

for you are not here.

– Ananya Maheshwari

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