Art by Karishma Surendra
I asked for some time
some more time
and now I have all this time
and I have all these words
they’re flowing out
my fingertips pattering
all over the keyboard
like a familiar touch
a comforting sound
of work being done
of meaning made
and taken home
to be rendered
as comfort when
I bleed for it
on another day
when I have no time.
writing for resolution
is one of the oldest games
I play. It beats any other
manner of analysis of
myself and my actions
examined in bright
white clinical light
with the eyes of a distant
distanced observer
who partakes in none
of this self-flagellation
but hopes only to sit
a while with me
at teatime and allay
my very real fears
of today and time
and pain and people.
with all that said
let us now look
hard and clear
with our fists folded
our knees locked
our lips whispering
a prayer for what
ever it is our souls
will encounter
in the windy dusty
field of our being.
tomorrow, they say
the song will start
again and I…
I will be there if
my stomach permits
this assault on its pit
if my chest can heave
off the weight on it
(the bird of stone)
to listen to nod
to smile to reward
my past selves
for doing their bit
everything done
unto me upto now
cross-stitch patterns
in my comforting quilt.