There is nothing to fear
when I float, nailed to a watery cross
blue clouds sponging my heart,
the sleepy sun locked in my eyes
my body featherweighted by sandy palms
and a wave comes to play.
It rolls me over,
flips me onto its warm chest
and caresses me breathless
I know death will be
a familiar wave, saltier perhaps than this Arabian one
but I fear the death that lurks in a hushed thought
upon the onslaught of a salvaged memory
that ripples the placid face of an afternoon
while the breeze fans the golden mango tree’s leaves
and sends impish gusts
to ruffle the tail feathers of the mating pigeons
on the parapet
They coo, my death throes echo
and the bleakness that advances
to grip the afternoon’s shadows leading it to
the edge of an ocean where life teems
under every mossy stone
and tries to push me into a whirlpool
where no sane thoughts swirl
A suicide point
where I come to rescue me
to drown some killer illusions
and take home to bed
what is left
of me and the day
(c) Reena R
Much food for thought on ‘Death and Illusions’
Thank you for reading it!
A Dickinson flavour of death lends the poem a singular charm.
I am glad you found it so! Thank you
A superb,candid literary piece filled with profound reflections.It transports the reader through sublime images to a state of awe.
Thank you very much Vijay Sir!
An exposition of the existential par excellence.
Editorial Footnote:
Welcome Back! Its been a while.
Thank you Sir! It is good to be back in this creative space.
Reassuringly real images hold the reader’s hand while leading her into unnerving depths of feeling and unsettling realities
The comment itself feels reassuring. Thank you so much Amita Ji
Awestruck by the powerful , profound images !
Sos ‘self’ from an illusion. Master craft!
Thank you Sir! Humbled to get your feedback.
Thank you so much! Your feedback is treasured.