It drags me underground
and I burrow through buried holes-
insects bite me-
porcupines prick me-
try to pull my legs.
I push myself-
set my
first foot-
manage to
reach the surface of the ground
while the moody moon looks from above-
she wraps herself in a black bedsheet-
goes on a slumber.
Black hole.
Buried holes.
Pressure from above.
Pressure from below.
One step at a time
as I manage-
dry leaves disowned by trees
blow towards me-
inject me upfront
on my nose-
some stab on the back-
the heart bleeds.
Gibran talks to me through his verses-
I imagine myself as a river now
that the whole way
back has been blocked-
that I must move forward
that I must make progress.
As I do-
petrichor from somewhere
tosses through my
nostrils-
the earth is still alive-
the dry spell is over-
I know now there’s some hope.
Not far away-
a fruit hangs from a branch
while the sun shines
crystal clear-
transparent as a yellow mirror.
I pluck and taste the fruit-
it is so sweet-
sweat shimmers like
beads of pearls on my body
while the heart no longer clotted
pumps corals of red.
I know now what it means to taste a fruit.
Brindha Vinodh
An immersive,unsettling piece laden with tropes of existential disquiet and rendered with considerable poetic aplomb.
Thank you so much, Louis Kasatkin.
Beautiful allegory Brindha. A touching poem.
Thank you so much, Vijinarayan madam.
An absorbing,multi-layered, surreal poem.Lovely!
Thank you so much, Vijay sir.
Sadness, pain, despair, effort, hope, comfort, relief : this poem takes the reader on a roller coaster ride echoing the emotions of the narrator through a series of vivid autumnal images.
Hope, grit, pathos all make your poem a powerful one poet Brinda.