chaiNboli

Theoretically it is not possible to forget to swim if you didn't know how to swim in the first place. But when I say I became a cyclone which wanted to drown itself before reaching the shore , it means you are the shore and all I wanted was to save you from destruction and we are using metaphors, because we are afraid of clean words. I am not telling that metaphors are not pure and clean, but they are not innocent like the language we made up in the playground when we were five. The politics of language is so much here ,that, may be the metaphors will file a case against me for defamation. So it will be wise if I close my mouth and prolong a silent prayer. But in the end, it won't help: as you know. When the silence gets too suffocating you move through my mind : metaphorically : like an image of a half peeled orange resting in the summer sun. There are no cars to bump on you when you are crossing my mind: you shouldn't be afraid. You don't need to look left first,  the...

You left me and God left with you,  and am searching for you (both)  in the silent pockets of nights ,  in the throat of pigeons and  in the half eaten chocolate piece. We should have split the evening  we met into two,  rather than taking it with me. I am sorry for taking that and  your knife in my bare hands. I am sorry for keeping it with me  and weaving poems out of it. I am sorry that I knelt on the ground with it  in the kitchen floor and  for staring at my wrists for three days. Then I stood up like a flame and  kissed the berries for their existence. In the bathtub I wrote that  you are the sun and am Icarus. That we are open hands and closed eyes That we are open eyes and closed fists. That angels are crying for us, ugly creatures. Even if we are not poetic enough as the wrinkles of a refugee whose grave was disturbed by atomic bombs, I will write and write,  cry and sob in my bed,  and nobody would ever unde...