It was only when boredom crept over me,as a wet monsoon snail,
Behind the locked door and between the white-washed walls,
I groped for torn pieces of paper in the garbage bin
To jot down the thoughts dug out from an ancient depth.
It was not to irritate you,nor to agitate your queerness,
Nor to kick on the well preserved face of your honour.
I was seeing things concealed from me,behind the robes of novelty
Through an inner eye,for the outer ones saw only swarthiness.
The spring sprouted a new seed outside my window
Into a tender shrub and blossomed a fragrant flower.
A wet fowl shook the water off its feather,in the fall
The sun’s golden rays imbibed the remnants from its trunk.
The new sights nurtured new words,the hidden ones to outside
For I too am a human,with a flesh to cover the soul beneath.
Lovely, touching write, Fathima.
Thank you so much Rahul Aithal.I feel honoured.
The line, “torn pieces of paper from the garbage bin”. lends an unconvential perspective to an already powerful,emotionally charged narrative.Spiritual ambivalence and hints of what the reader might take as a degree of unrequited longing also add to the poem’s potency.
No words to express my gratitude,Louis. The emotions and feelings I described may be unknown for you but I think majority of Indian women carry them.
good work,indeed.
” Confession ” has been awarded the commendation of ” Highly Commended ” in the Poem of the Year Category of the Destiny Poets’ International Community of Poets ICOP Awards 2012. See ICOP Roll of Honour for more details.