The nights dissolve into days and the days
fade out to nights again, some of which I admit
are fanciful but that is never said
generative in current paradigms.
When a night goes by but on this bed the page
remains too void of words, it often feels like
I am impotent or a lady of age,
who has failed to be a mother in her life!
I once believed that a full moon upon
a rain washed sky would let all your wounds heal,
like a sunrise on a white sandy beach,
until I found out, firsthand, that they don’t!
I remember it was a monsoon I prayed for
and awarded with the barrage of a depression.
I was there when the heavy clouds began to cry
waiting for the moon to shine through the thickened sky.
The night was heavy too almost wet to my touch,
shrouded in a mist too thin to see with our naked eyes,
and for, the days being nights too for days, I can vouch!
Meanwhile the moon was waning to be born again,
as both the Joker and the Thief whispered to me
about the growling wind and asked, “Why so serious?”
“Why”, I replied, “but for this blood on my land,
who could have known that my land too would bleed
like the rest of our cancer stricken world!”
So the Joker showed a charted world to me
and I said, “Alright, now I understand.”,
then the Thief hit me hard with his knuckled hand!
Later, after the blackout, I am not sure when,
was it the next morning or a few down the road,
I woke up as the world was passing a verdict,
that I could only live in a sanatorium,
economically infeasible as of now.
So, the enforcers came and they strangled me
with this heavy lock and chain of pure steel,
until such a place can be made feasible.
Thus you see me drooling here for the end…
O, no I cannot remember their names,
it has all been hazy ever since but that night
is branded in my memory and will remain so,
the rest is heaped in these worn out pages, too dry
and yellow with age and the negligence around.
* It is also a string of 3 sonnets, separately composed..