What more from an old woman

WHEN I study that the me in the mirror
fails to replicate the me in me
but just reflects the cheek with its oil and fat;
when I grasp the fact that these derma layers
would one day be just justly
none better than a torn piece of loin cloth,
the favoured morsel for the cemetery soil;
is it then I’d realize I should’ve retorted
to the compliment of an erstwhile neighbour
in the stained seats of a congested train from the east
“you look too fair to a dark father”?

Lo! stranger!
How would you ever know it is this dark dad
that sanctioned all the fairness in this unfair life of mine?
How I wish I could disown my “thanks” to you
that was bitterly too undue.

WHEN the echoes of the empty rooms
amplify the eerie strains of isolation;
when the unscathed undertones
of my own living room fountain grow so screaming,
filling the void with sounds of voiceless violins;
is it then I’d realize that I should’ve stayed
some more time beside you my mother,
whose whistle lines never whispered the loneliness
nor sang the tunes of unease of your disease;
who passed only sleepy wakings through nights
and stirring slumbers through days,
sipping only aching agonies as antidotes

Do you know I blundered
by leaving you for lame little excuses?
How I wish I could repudiate my “I must go”
that was way too unjust for you.

WHEN the pearl pinky blushes of the park roses
fail to grab my attention,
when the purple-laden clouds pass by
with the least lightning on the lazy limbers of my sleeping psyche
when all my sacred chantings start with your name,
shunning the lousy leers of loathsome scallywags,
coyly revealing the unalloyed yearning of mine,
to entwine my feeble fingers with your firm ones;
is it then I’d realize that I should’ve let the waves
drift beneath and bless our feet to be frozen for eternity
on the beach sands of our, our time

When would I ever let my love unveil itself –
Love crystallized, love that longed not to leave but to live with you?
How I wish I’d never uttered the “Bye Pal!”
that indeed was undeserved by your pristine soul.

WHEN the laughing gases around here
drench me with their hugs and handshakes
for all the otherwise despised heeds and hearty breaths,
(shhh! in the disguise of discipline),
when tears are feared ready to roll down
the moment a frown is found on my visage,
when with narcissistic strides I march up to my province
claiming the world under my feet;
Is it then I’d realize I should’ve darned
the delicate laces that had bound us
for more than a tutor and a tyro

How do I furbish the coarser
course of affairs, to wise up to the art of unlearning?
How I wish my ever so loyal “you’re my God”
hadn’t played too unjust for my heart.

After all, the wistful wish hangs back though,
Pronouncing the factual fashion of being-
If only words were just passing winds
and their wounds just discoloured patches
on the skin of the subliminal,
ease would be the glide along this frost and cold;
equable would be this long haul to respite
in the bosom of eternity.


Make a mess

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