This week I finally learnt to accept
the impermanence of things
its beauties, its tragedies
the persistence of certain memories
the agonies of forgetting
and the rush of remembrances.
this week I read the story of a mythological hero
gifted with a thousand arms*
this, they said, made him one of the greatest warriors.
I wonder why he wanted to be a mighty warrior
When with his thousand arms he could be
the world’s greatest lover.
This week I saw a cat with a broken rib
with the brownest eyes ever
the benign little face had no shadows
a fine equilibrium of space and time
a handful of golden rarified air.
This week I inverted reality, saw it through the
blue and red translucence of ink bubbles
It began with paper people
crumpling and walking away
mincing steps filing down
the wastepaper basket
had never looked so interesting
as it did this week
Going through my old Joyce and Woolf collection
I felt I have been living for a long, long time
22 was a long time ago,
The year I started this blog
The year I finally learnt to speak up.
At 26 I still feel like bawling
I still feel like sliding
down the wooden banister of my new office
I still want to play, alone,
with my imaginary friends.
I said goodbye to an old room this week
To the paintings on the wall
Scribbled a note to the next occupant
Left a part of my soul with a friend
manifested as quaint subtleties
paper clouds, splashes of paint
a ball of deep purple wool
and dried jacuranda flowers
that preserved in their lilac veins
memories of an old misty summer
This week I noticed the number of people
that were leaving life and its cacophonies
while I am always left behind
delving on its roots and wings.
This week I have reduced my priorities
to just two things:
and not make mistakes.
'the child is grown
the dream is gone’ *
* Kartavirya Arjuna (Mahabharata)
*Comfortably Numb (Pink Floyd)
Picture: Bubble prints on paper. (Drawing ink and washing soap)