Beginnings
Corner me into a small space
And squeeze my childhood into a glass bottle
Visible, tangible
Only through the mouth-piece opening;
Giving off wafts of nostalgia, pity
Self-pity;
Of warm sunny afternoons
Lived with a boding fear
That you would catch us behind your back,
On yet another childish endeavour
What must I do to relay
What words have lost to say too long ago,
Infused into writing
Entangled with, perhaps, some broken pieces of my heart
In that search for Person
For Identity
Or even for Belonging
I've started on a journey
I do not yet know,
Where it might see its end
Cuts like a knife
Through the threads of my soul
To pierce yet another fountain,
Left forgotten,
Left unexplored
Leaving me more vulnerable than I was before.
Leave me some dignity, leave me my writings
But in that struggle for ‘Om,’
I think I exist best
Seeking those corners
Of misty peripherals
