Tag Archives: lost

the photo

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Here I am, laughing boisterously-

Nobody misses the flying hair,

the static twinkle in the eye,

the fingers wrapped around my waist,

a sliver of skin where the dress slips off my shoulder.

A moment captured for posterity.

Those who see, think-

“At the still point, there the dance is.”

Only,

The hair is unwashed, the dress is burlap,

the fingers are leaving a mark,

the twinkle is the reflection of artifice.

I am laughing at myself.

 

Where did the words go?

lurking away in some corner

of lips parched with the immobility of silence

and trapped

in the slur of the tongue drunk on sleep,

teetering on the edge of memories

that threaten to force you off the brink

of existence.

Happy memories, not sad

for sadness has a beauty about it when alive

but happiness

once lost, takes away the words-

meanders in the dark

And anchors them in the land of the lost.

L for Los…t.

Some days, I feel like such a dunce. Like today when I couldn’t figure out the simple parallel narrative structure of a movie. When brother dearest pointed it out to me and I responded with an illuminated “aah!”, he sneered. Well, what was I to do but snap back with an “I didn’t ask you to tell me that”? My comebacks were also wearing the dunce cap. Worse, he responded with “What do you do when you see someone sinking? You help. Ergo I did”. Ah, condescending elder brothers can really make your day and boost your self esteem, can’t they. This just got me thinking that there are two different shades to me, really . One, a poignant, deep self that delights in writing poetry and reading and talking about books. But another that has the IQ of a child who has seen a cow or a bus for the first time. That doesn’t make sense, does it. But that’s how I am. As an English major, I know I absolutely have it in myself to read a book and analyze it down to the phonemes of each word. Analyze it so I can give you a giggle-sob-sigh account of what the writer felt while putting down those words. And analyze it of course for its figures of speech and structure and themes and the entire nine yards. But I also know I have a side that can miss the most obvious details, that can trip and fall before the most important people and that can forget to wipe my mouth even, after a meal. And obviously, end up embarrassing the people with me. Oh, only after embarrassing myself of course. It is so difficult competing with someone who is cool all the time. Alright,  a whole family of people who are cool all the time. And even if they aren’t,  they’re not deep and poignant one second and tripping over their laces in another. So maybe I’m different. Caught between identities. Okay, that’s just me using a fancy phrase to euphemise “You’re messed up”.
Sigh. Is this a phase or am I stuck?