Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Off the Hook


Some feel it like an ice-cold blob
Hanging like a locket
While some feel it like an albatross
By the skeleton in the closet.

For some it lingers, down every corridor
Calling out their names.
Gliding by from door to door
As phantoms of unfounded shames.

Unfounded I say, unfounded it is
Yet we all disagree.
We fail to see that it’s what we
We ourselves want to believe.

This guilt, this shame from long time ago
From a time we rest forget.
But remember bits, etched on our skin
We scratch, but later regret.

Like the guilt we bear, of unrequited hugs
That we wish we could return.
Of a sibling, or son, we said did not deserve
And rendered forever to yearn.

Like spectacles or bracelets, of beads of carved wood
That residual love remained.
In the shadows of some nook, invisible to look
And innate, but delusional to sane.

*****


Another year here, with yet another face
With a resemblance that rang some bell.
But we let it pass and hopped on to things
And ventured out of the shell.

Familiarity remains, still rings some bells
That the hug doesn’t fail to see.
And out pours out, with our love for the face
The hug that we owed to thee.

It is time, it is time, to ‘purge’ yourself up
Of the unfounded guilt you bleed.
And let yourself stand, by the mirror to see
Something that you should’ve believed.

That depthless love, like a debt of a broke
Never saw the face of closure.
We splurged that was left, for as long as it took,
Read as long as it took, forever.

2 comments:

Paritosh said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Paritosh said...

If I may put forth my thoughts-
A cauldron of emotions; a confluence of feelings from the past, present and future- is what this poem is laced with.
This poem is a window; rather a small crack, which allows a sneak peek into the writer's mind. There is a lot which is out there in those words. And at the same time there is also a feeling of restrain which can be felt. It might be because of the 'unfounded guilt' which has been mentioned or an inability to reciprocate in equal measures, but yes there are invisible fetters which are tying the writer down to explicitly refine and define her exact state of mind.
On a different note, mirrors never lie, do they? The thing with them is that even if you throw a stone at them, the reflection and the truth they show, gets multiplied.
Splendid metaphors and a very tight composition