When love stabbed again and again ,
On the same deep wound
Spurting red and scattering flesh
I left your city, my love..,
Without bidding a goodbye
Without sending a gaze back,
Where even the one eyed beggar
Was a matter of talk for us.
I left the city whose rain is your voice
Whose form is your soul
Where all corners held pieces of our love
Where once I had deliberately send my roots..
Now I’ve to begin from the rootlets
Which embrace your soul mightily
Plucking and tearing them from each corners
And I should step my foot
On the first train that come in my way
No turning back, no goodbye
Just run away dropping every bundle
Run away from your face, your voice
And your vivid odours..
Run away from raging sea, our quiet footpaths
Run away from our music, the bookstores..
Every corner where our love bloomed ..
If years after I have a return, I shouldn’t tell
That this corner had once seen my love
Or this rain sounds familiar
Or I had heard this song long before
Or these words were once mine.
I shouldn’t say..
And so I should run away, dear city..
I should run away without turning back..

This entry was posted in Poetry on by .

About Fathima Manal

Dreams,fantasies,words and rhythm-other than skin,bones and muscles I am made up of these.With every drop of blood that my heart pumps,a new dream forms in me.With every breathe,i take the surroundings too inside me.And my poems are just the minute regurgitants of what i accumulate within. I am a doctor from Kerala,India,who should not be supposed to but is in deeply love with words and books more than medical books.Hope you enjoy my poems......

4 thoughts on “Farewell

  1. lokesh roy

    In leaving a city, we leave behind memories . The person who caused the misery may or may not feel anything – but some, like this poem elucidates , want to get away from it all. Is it right for them to do so, leaving a city for one person ! well the answer lies very melodiously in a line ‘ if years after I have a return, I should not tell ‘………which is the ideal state of poetic vacillation, if I may say so.

  2. Fathima Manal Post author

    Thank you Lokesh ji.. This was based on a personal experience and there was such a pouring of emotions that I wrote it within five minutes and never had to strike even a single word…Feeling honoured by your comments.

  3. Mohammad ashraf

    A king that is conquered must meet strange looks.so bitter a thing is the heart of man.powerful rhetoric keeps the corruptive power.it directs and metamorphoses from within.i am again in the grip.how could it happen? I have identified myself with you(narrator) . I am there. . .tears in my eyes. . .disillusioned . . .disgruntled. . .bearing the sweet pain. . .escaping. . .escaping from the clutches. . .i dread past. . .i want to erase it. . .the pain has been so severe . . .oh!

    The adverbal clause of the poem at the beginning brings out the frustration felt,’stabbed’ reveals the intensity of the shock, ‘again and again’ its ruthless eternal recurrence. And it is not felt by many, thus diluted,but it is precise in its fierce attack ,so it strikes the same wound.the height of pain has left a height of pleasure behind it,when there used to be sweet chit chat,possibly about her tresses,her smile,her looks,her dinner,her sleep. . .nothing had been dull,not even the one eyed beggar. All is gone . So the narrator adopts the escapist mode.he is running away from every path of life.neither the ‘raging sea’ can give him comfort, nor the ‘quiet footpaths’. . .silence and sound,both alike,are the sources of torture.

    And who is responsible? The poem can be also treated at the social level,besides seeming a highly personal experience.poetry,if poetry is,has no frontiers whatsoever. . .the poet is mourning the lost golden past. . . .the poem,in general, is shakespearean in its imagery and plathian in theme!

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