Don't know what is my country, religion or caste.
Don't know what are my rituals.
I am just a child.
"Innocent Child"
If you take me,  I will become you.
If they take me, I will become them.
                                                           - Sandeep Kaushal

people have their god
               and
people have their no god
               but
neither has solid proof
                nor
the definitive answer
               only
what they truly believe in
                and
they’re so sure of themselves
               that
they’ll defend and protect their beliefs
                  if
any differences are shouted at them
                 and
they’ll hold and cradle their beliefs
               tightly
like a security blanket
                 and
they’ll preach their beliefs
                  to
any pair of ears they come across
                  it’s
the never-ending game
           straddling
the on-going centuries
                  if
you have god, go with god
                and
                  if
you have nothing, go with nothing
                 just
leave me the hell out of it:
your beliefs
      my beliefs
          his beliefs
             her beliefs
               their beliefs
                 were never a certainty.

You are bones of my bones,
Not in ownership,
In recognition.
What was a missing rib had come back whole.
Not taken to complete you,
But returned to walk beside you.

Your kindness is
Patient,
Long-suffering,
Unenvied—
It moves like light through stained glass.

You are my promised land,
Not perfect,
But flowing—
With milk and honey,
With the quiet richness of sweet moments,
Where peace is enough to make everything feel divine.

I’ve known the flood,
The wilderness,
The wandering—
But now I know the garden again.
In the way you say my name,
Standing beside you,
The missing rib finally returned.
And whole.

And if God is love,
Then loving you
Is worship,
And every moment with you
A kind of prayer
I never want to say “amen” to.

The roses grot, White doves fluttering by
Endless dreams in the sky
Untouched though, never taught how
Summer air and drenched leaves
For thou is not to teach
The dreams were never reached

The wind gliding through my soul
Little clouds flowing along
A melody of god's way untold
A repetition to understand
Listened once, forgot again

Grief they say is the last form of love
Being clawed away are these yearnings for more
They trim the leaves, water the roots
Maybe new buds, new petals, will bruit

To be god's fool, color blissful deeds
Petrels coot slandering lies above the water bed
Sent out to ramble of helpless needs,
in the blue canvas, never dead
When will the bluebirds coo?
Will they too
paint their sins, close to the dunes?

What if god is how you describe
with caressing hands and gentle eyes
You say his name so attentively
despite the one syllable Melody

When will her eyes glow for me
And not the being who took her loved
Simmering is a prayer on my lips
that is authored to no god.

We are in the night
Each behind doors shut
And marked with blood

Innocent blood spilt on the grounds
That it would give protection.
And protection it did give but

The cries of pain that laid over our city
And rattled in my room, filled me with regret.
I pray if it was necessary with no divine response.

So we let the ghost of loss pass over our home,
feeling it, yet letting it take nothing
And when the sun rises on the new day and

Brings us our deliverance of love—
For us there will be
A future.

Man craves reassurance,
I am nothing different to that.
We assemble groups of people to agree with us,
That the light doesn't just go out.
As if life were a dying lightbulb,
On an old lamp.
The kind that sits on my grandparents coffee table,
My family doesn't worship a symbol or God,
Will the light go out on them?
I believe in the man named God,
But we do not often talk,
My prayers are crude and unrefined.
Is that enough,
To keep the light on,
For a little long?
I fear not,
We will weep,
Becoming brittle.
People mourning shatter into shards,
For them, death is too far,
For them,
Death is the final friend.

Do you not think about it the thing we fear the most
Same way we will all end and have a string around our toe
Or is it just me wondering about something I really can not help
Something so honest but so hurtful to accept
Did it ever cross your mind
How soothing religion is to believe
Yet everyone still has that fear at the end,
because life isn't at all what it seems
You can only speak now
What you feel and what you know
But how certain are you of the place you end up when it's really time to go
They say give it to God and I did
And he gave the thoughts back
If hell wasn't such the curse
Would our good deeds still be an act
If you knew there was nothing at the end
Would you share that and instill fear
Or would you put your loved one's heart and mind at peace,
if you told them what they wanted to hear
In no way am I saying there is no super being
There's a whole wide world
So, God isn't what I'm questioning
What if we're supposed to just feel the right now
And feel all the moments
Just to say it has happened
Is that what the Lord only wanted
Life is a celebration
The poor suffer through, and the rich take a toast
But how can you be obsessed with something you fear the most?