Post Card: A Poem by Latha Warrier

The long-awaited post card, finally in hand,
Trembling fingers, heart racing, I can barely stand,
A mix of joy, excitement, and fear,
The unknown news, drawing ever near.

The post card, crinkled and worn,
Held within, secrets left forlorn,
Words scribbled in ink, a story to tell,
A drama that’s unfolded, a tale to compel.

I turn the post card, with bated breath,
And read the contents, as if from death,
The words dance before my eyes,
And I begin to realize that all is well.

With each line, emotions rise and fall,
Sorrow, elation, confusion, and all,
The news good or bad, I must face,
And move forward through this new space.

The post card, from the war front is finally here,
A message that brings both joy and fear,
A weight lifted, a burden turned,
Anxiety calmed, concern unlearned.

The post card may be long-awaited,
But the meaning must be contemplated,
For within those words are dreams and hopes,
And the future ahead, we must dare to cope.