The naked hole

 

There is a hole in my heart

hanging like an ornate amulet,

And when sadness is groping

along the deepening twilight shadows,

it gets transfigured into a hook,

It sadistically pierces and

dredges the mud of memories,--

a perpetrator of pain,

It opens a gateway for

blatant intrusion of grief.

 

There is a craft of living,

To live is to look

hodge-podge normal on the surface,

So I express my grief and pain

through a laugh,

a casual remark and silly talk,

a smile, a joke,

a set of plain mundanities

which help those around

in holding onto their concept of life.

 

The seasons change

But the springs and summers fail

to melt and thaw

the frozen heart

with its icy hole

leading to a cave

emanates from which a silent scream.

 

I know that

one has to learn

to forget to live

and engage with petty, chattering festivities

that sum up as

individual and collective life,

But the hole’s hook is anchored deep

to keep the ship of my life

stranded in the betraying bay,

while the open seas beckon

with its waves and tides of freedom.

 

Look at love!

Its circuitous, meticulous forays,

It loops, tangles, untangles,

unites, breaks and finally shatters

the stones that were once pearls,

It has its gifts and allowances for the kids

playing to its script and direction:

some trace of truth in a lie;

some grain of lie in truth.

 

Slowly you get attuned to

this hole in you,

Still seeking love

you fall in love

with this missing chunk in you,

You hold the memories in the pit of your soul

and with the fire of your agony

and pressure of your grief

you crystallize them to diamonds,

Then you hold your self-mined treasure

and sadly muse over it as the mystical emblem

of all that you missed, lost and grieve over,

You give it a precious title;

like we did with the golden earth

and named it as gold.

 

You get satiated,

You gloat and float

with air in you

that rushes through your hole,

You bob on the chance waves,

Your emptiness feeling like fullness,

You feel it has been worth it,

You stand like a gentleman

and proudly brace the left pocket on your chest,

You put your hand on it,

You think you are looking decorated, victorious,

praiseworthy and well clad,

But in reality

you are simply

covering that naked hole in you.