WHY ME.....,

to my WC family...lol

 

                  DEATH

A thousand words a night,a thousand nights with out a word,

scampering into the darkest corners of his mind,

Abruptly,he is stoned by a resplendent radiance,

bright enough to blind,

drenched in the sweat of ,fears unknown,

falling from a pagoda,

sinking in oceans of vast pain,

leathery kelps clinging to his feet,his hands,

drawing him in,

he bleeds from every possible slit in his body,

a thousand stigmata,a crown of thorns,

sinking deep,pain won't let him faint,

''I am dying at last''a soft whimper,

a last moan,

    BIRTH

all galaxies,planets,stars,

whirling with a tremendous momentum,

around one nuecleus,a common axis,

rotation,velocity,whirl winds,whirl pools,

the universe in a frantic Kathak,

''I am just conceived....My mother is clothing me with flesh....,''

warm,dark and watery,

a slight cooing,a gentle rhapsody...,

then,a thud,a slosh,

a piercing cry,

''I am being born,again...''

Ailing mother with tears of joy,

he slides out,all blue,red and green,

smeared in bile,blood and gore,a filth  that created him,

a whine so full of new life,

opens the child,his wondering eyes, ,

                     SEARCH

And again the same smoldering fire,myriads of it,heightened by winds,ready to burn,

he feels submerged in a chemical ready to scorch his intellect,

there he is,again,

in complete wilderness,infinite stretches of space and time,

 being sucked and swallowed by a million black holes...,

he searches blindly for people...,

saviours,lovers..,friends..,

slaps,blows,incredulous looks..,

he narrates his agony to get a clap from comparitively naive wolves..,

from the pack of hounds,THE  INTELLECTUAL ONES..,

 Scoffing sounds,words not knives,

wolves  only,none of his kind..., 

''Must write....,''he fills his pen with heart's blood,

''Too thick...needs dilution by tears...,''

Tears of every slave whipped,

Tears of every girl,burnt to ashes,condemned to be witch ,

He thudds his head hard on Berlin walls ,

OF hatred,caste and colour..,pounding it harder and harder ,

trembling,stumbling,panting and shuddering ,

he begins to write,

on the fabric woven of expectations of suffering and oppressed ,

a sudden crunch and the nib breaks ,

he gazes ,eyes not coals ,

hollering at deep  dome of sky,he asks in a shaky voice,  '' Why,me....,out of all,YOU choose me'',

  ''every day a crucification and then a resurrection,'' 

and then he looks at his pen,solemnly,gazes deep,

after a while fondles it like a loving mother,taking a deep breath,

he smiles,smiles like a man lost,   

craddling the pen into fingers frail,

like boughs of pine in eternal frost,

he stammers,a dying man,

''yes,love,we must..we will,plunge into seas of sorrow to get pearls of hope,words for you,''

''TONIGHT,I SHALL DIE AGAIN''

Author's Note

Reviews

[Emily B]

I die every time, a little, that I empty my words on an empty page. But my words are young and innocent and have many lessons to learn. And as they grow, they are re-born again and again. Each time these words are read they are born and die again content in the life cycle.

Wonderful thoughts on this fall evening.

[ALifeAquatic]

I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to leave you a review! I had to read this a few times to really get a measure of it, I think it is a wonderful message to each and every writer on this site, not only that but as a poem in it's own right the language and the imagery bewitch the reader, it reminds me of Kahlil Gibran!

Beautiful!

[cest la vie]

Such a beautiful inspiring tribute to the writer and his process of emptying thought to paper.
Beautifully phrased and written. Thank you so much for sharing such a lovely piece with us all.

[Michael X]

wow, sahar this is really beautiful, intellectually spiritual, and full engaging in wording an imagery, i feel it captures the idea of the writer at heart and draws the reader to a meditative contemplation.
a fitting ode to tribute, and whom inspired this magnificent piece, wish i could. hahaha smiles. brilliant job