Tag Archives: Dengue

Rest, not rust, dear Ulysses

In an attempt to find stillness in me

I reduced actions to bare minimum

realizing immediately how a huge fatigue

decided to settle upon me

perhaps years of action upon on action

had accumulated in me the need for inertia

the state of rest

when the feet clamped down to some imaginary rod

felt leaden and fought with a mind that actively plotted actions

when hands tied down by a huge need for silence

refused to budge when the brain screamed, act, move, act

I lay down feeling for the first time in years

the feel of my body against the bed in rest

and conniving with the mosquito who brought me a fever called dengue

I lay travelling back in time on my bed

and wondered when the time had rushed so fast as to push me this far

but to rest, dear Ulysses is not yet to rust

though I shall like you follow knowledge like a sinking star

and drink life to the lees

and strive to seek, to gain and not to yield

yet today I stay back with my own Telemachus

with my own Penelope(?) and rest, but not rust, no, not yet!

 

 

 

 

Caesura

The harsh clear lines of sophistication

of robot like cleanliness

the brightness that blinds

weakened the eye

closing as if to shut out

the outside world

a mind over tired with pressing futile demands of existence

of offications,of standing ups

of a heart worn out of use

wasted in disuse

of dreams no more

of hopes no more

she bent in kindness

her simple face dressed in smile

she reached forward to touch

the other greeting her in gratitude

the nurse and the nursed

this was a caesura- a short break, a stop

as against the continuous rush

one was in pain suddenly confounded with loneliness

with feelings of betrayal

with the overpowering of the sensations of pricking pain

shooting across the mind and the body

but she the other

young,purposeful yet gentle

forced love,care and a desire to live on

-then we smile, the nurse and nursed

in  a bonhomie untouched by the power of medical bills

doctors advise and a few onlookers prognosis

we, she and I created a smallish moment of otherness

such moments that make you want to go on living

– I got up to go much lighter in my pocket and in my head

until another caesura another break.