सोमवार, 29 अक्तूबर 2012


Poetry, dripping with obscurity
Drops of tears, mingled with lost loves
Feeble incantations, longings suppressed
Words bubbling to surface
Acidic, dark, with matted hair
Dried blood on them
Reminiscent of the past
Of feelings
Dark nights, cascading tresses of the moon
Dreams of guttural sounds
Shadows lurking
Gasping for breath
Reliving stinging departures
Answerless questions
And abject despair
And poetry is born

Well, what if
Poetry a magic, the poet
A sorcerer waving the wand
Starts time backwards
First in fits and starts
Then seamlessly
As you watch
Departing steps retrace
Hung heads arise
Tears slither back
Eyes dry up
The final hug
The initial departure
Into the life lived backward
Riding the sea of acrimony and excuses
Barbed accusations and swelling rages
To safely dock on quiet shores
At the beginning of love
And freeze time
Into a fresh new start
Possibility of smiles
Care and tenderness
Once again
Relived differently
What if?

Brand it heresy,
And poetry the occult
Let the poet gladly face wrath
So that life rewinds
So happiness pervades
In a million lives
A second chance
Reborn .

  - Sadhana .

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