Monday, January 6, 2014
Yet you elude me-
I give my words legs and watch
them walk away, giving birth on sidewalks
and eat up all creaks and chaos
Old crones and crows walk under my eyes at night,
they turn to voices in the rays
drifting away, pieces running off-
Into places inside me that I didn’t know existed
and then infused in you,
I write my story, the unremembered epilogue.
You shall read me like a river
(Yes, like a river - with a zoologist’s precision
examining its halolimnic ramblings)
While your words,
a pebbly brook of pauses and punctuations,
I waddle through feeling-
the tingling incoherency of its hydric warbles;
my ankles squeal.
Every time you exhaled, a tendril within me unfurled-
I pause, I pen, I poem.
- Jeena Mary Chacko (2013)
Picture: Me at Kotagiri, 6 years ago.