As it were
I grew up giving up
on a wide range of things;
my favourite pillow,
crawling, being fed,
applauded for doing
the littlest of things,
being dressed by my
parents, occupying
the window-seat of all
vehicles I thought I owned.
I do remember a sudden,
silent voice resisting,
talking back to time,
whispering in the air,
asking it to stay,
as it were.
Retired from work,
I looked askance at the
state of affairs; severed
from life, I feel numb;
oftentimes, I have the
urge of asking a child, or
an adult if they were my
age and imagine a strange
expression on their face.
I can still walk, eat, watch
TV, stay connected with
the world, mostly with
the virtual world, do my
chores by myself.
But very soon, this time
will disappear, like camphor,
I will have to give up on
these as well; return to my
childhood for good, albeit
with the experience of an
adolescent, mature life;
I find it rather comical
that I will still not have
learned the art of giving
up; I can clearly listen
to the voice screeching
everywhere on my behalf,
as it were.
Hi Supratik 🙂 I hope you don’t mind me saying I have seen your poetry going from strength to strength over the years. Your work flows effortlessly. Retired from work, I looked askance at the state of affairs; severed from life, I feel numb; oftentimes, I have the urge of asking a child, or an adult if they were my age and imagine a strange expression on their face. I can surely relate. I simply cannot comprehend how quickly my life has passed and how many other things I may have achieved if things were different. I could have done so many… Read more »
No, I don’t mind at all. Although I know that it is coming from a past for which I feel sad. I am currently writing a novel in English and am desperately looking for someone who could help me editing it. There are places (quite a few) where it can be edited, so it becomes convenient for readers who have English as their mother tongue. Stories matter, many stories matter, so I am determined to make it ready as soon as possible. Need some divine intervention. 🙂 I feel so happy that I am now able to express more clearly… Read more »
Hi again Supratik, We have several writers here with English as a second language. Off the top of my head we have Nic (Greek) and Yukta (German I think) but we also had several writers who were Indian. We had Frederick who was a Dane I think…many more. Oh my memory frustrates me because I remember their work! The lovely lady who is a rheumatologist, wrote such spiritual poetry … the names will come back to me. Then another Indian lady who wrote a beautiful poem about schoolchildren making their noisy way down the street in the Monsoon. The imagery… Read more »
Your warm response gives me immense hope. Thank you. I will not defend my case as unique but the second language writers cited (most of them) had the privilege of being in England. When I studied Linguistics in French, I came across an expression called ‘bain de langage’ which literally translates into ‘bathing in the language’; this I did not have. Many of my relatives whom I adore are there and they do share their experiences of being taught at the Oxford University. Some of them couldn’t speak when they left, but now they do effortlessly. This does have an… Read more »
It’s hard to add to what Alison has already said. But this is a poem to come back to; to delve into. What is it saying to me? Is it about growing old – looking at possible dementia? Or is simply the human condition we are all (or some of us) experiencing in lock-down. And the art of giving up – is it not so hard to do? Anyway, another sublime poem.
Best….Dougie
Thank you very much. Yes, of course, it could also be about the global situation that all of us faced during the lock-down.
Warm regards,
Supratik