From The Bard's Pen

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how
infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and
admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet,
to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me—
nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

- Hamlet

Friday, April 18, 2014

Maa: A Bruised Memory

A bruised memory
on the mind’s landscape
Faint, discolored
that’s what the years with you 
have become, Maa

I shrink from
touching it again -
scared of the blood
that might ooze out,
scared of the pain
I would feel all over again

I dig around the bruise
with a little finger of pain
Gasping at the hurt
Crying yet again

I’m keeping you alive 
in my heart, Maa
Even if the distance between us
drives me insane..

No comments:

Post a Comment