“Carving”
Others can carve out
their space
in tombs and pyramids.
Our time cannot be trapped
in cages.
Nor hope, nor laughter.
We let the moment rise
like birds and planes and angels
to the sky.
Eternity is this.
Your breath on the window pane,
living walls with shining eyes.
The surprise of spires,
uncompromising verticals. Knowing
we have been spared
to lift our faces up
for one more day,
into one more sunrise.
— by Imtiaz Dharker
Noticed this poem on the London Tube last week, on one of the “Poems on the Underground” posters.
From: Imtiaz Dharker, The Terrorist at My Table (Bloodaxe Books, 2006).